The Girlfriend Agreement
by partbritishtowhead
Summary: Their first kiss is accidental. Their second is experimental. Their third? Well, I'll let you figure that one out for yourself. Leonard moves back to NJ, and Penny copes with his absence by moving in with Sheldon. Oh, the humanity.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

Prologue

"Thanks for coming, everyone. Before we eat, I have to tell you all something. You may want to sit down," says Leonard as he leans against the kitchen counter with crossed arms. Sheldon, as usual, claims the far left cushion of the couch. Raj sits on the right, and Penny squeezes in between. Howard takes the armchair.

"What's going on?" Penny asks, eyebrows aloft. "You're scaring us."

Leonard takes a deep breath. "Well, my mom's got cancer," he begins, "and – "

"This is the reason why you've assembled us together?" Sheldon interrupts, tilting his head to the side. "With all due respect, Leonard, I already know this." This is true – Sheldon is the one who told Leonard of his mother's recently diagnosed lymphoma, as Sheldon skypes Dr. Beverly Hofstadter on a regular basis.

Leonard uncrosses his arms. "Yes, Sheldon, but there's more – "

"Oh, God, Leonard," says Penny through her fingers, as she has one hand covering her mouth. "Is she going to be okay?"

"She should be, but – "

"Yes, with the ongoing advancements in medical science, it is likely that she'll be just _hunky-dory_." Sheldon pauses before quickly muttering, "In addition, I sang her 'Soft Kitty.'" He lifts his eyes from the food on the coffee table and adds, "That being said, I don't see what the disturbance is here, other than the fact that my mi krop is growing steadily colder." He removes a travel-size bottle of liquid hand sanitizer from his pocket and squeezes a dab of it onto his left hand.

"_Sheldon_," chastises Penny, smacking his shoulder; he gives her a startled look as he vigorously rubs his hands together. She leans towards him and whispers in his ear. "Show some sympathy, sweetie. How would you feel if it were your mother? Or your grandmother?"

Raj nods in wordless agreement as Sheldon straightens rigidly in his seat. "Not Meemaw."

"Please, guys, just listen," says Leonard, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. "Like I said, my mom has cancer. She's getting treatment, but as she's just divorced my dad, she needs someone to take care of her. My siblings and I have drawn straws…" He trails off and clears his throat. "I don't know how long I'll be gone."

Howard shifts in his chair, crossing one leg over the other. His bright blue pants make a groaning sound, as they are so tight. "Wait, Leonard, what are you saying? You're _leaving_?"

"I'm going back to New Jersey for a while. A couple months. A year? I don't really know. I've notified the university, and I'm trying to secure a part time job in New Jersey."

Penny looks as if she might cry; she turns her face away from Leonard so he can't see her. Sheldon, however, seems the most concerned about this turn of events. He stands up in agitation, abandoning his Thai food, his hands twitching at his sides. "_Leonard_," he says, crossing the room. "As much as I cherish and respect Dr. Beverly Hofstadter, regardless of her apparent failure with how you turned out, you can't leave – we have a _contract_. According to the Roommate Agreement, you – "

"Sheldon, forget about the Roommate Agreement for a second," says Leonard. "I'm leaving, and that's final. I know this is hard for you, but I _do_ plan to come back at some point."

"But…But…With whom shall I live?" Sheldon's lower lip is just short of quivering, and Leonard recognizes this as a sign that his roommate is in danger of fleeing and locking himself in his bedroom.

Leonard's voice softens. "We'll find someone. I won't leave until we get someone to sublease my room. I'll even help you come up with the tests for prospective roommates or whatever."

"_We?"_ repeats Sheldon. "Excuse me, but in what universe do you have any authority in the construction of the roommate barriers? Besides, the barriers have already been established and cannot be altered. Any future roommate must meet the same criteria as any past roommate." He meets Leonard with his blue-eyed blaze. "Additionally, as our contract can only be severed by mutual agreement or untimely death, you, Dr. Leonard Hofstadter, are now dead to me." Sheldon falls silent. Then, he spins on his heel and walks swiftly towards his bedroom. His door slams shut behind him.

Leonard sags against the kitchen counter and sighs. He looks to Penny for comfort. "I don't know what to do."

Penny grips her knees with both hands, forcing herself not to cry. She appears to be thinking deeply. Finally, a big breath escapes her parted lips. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'll do it."

Leonard squints at her from over his glasses. "Do what?"

"I'll be his roommate," she says calmly, taking one of the containers off the table and forking some rice into her mouth.

Raj gets off the couch to whisper something in Howard's ear. Howard nods. "Raj wants to know if you're insane." Howard pauses. "_Are you insane?_"

"Well, I've been thinking about moving to a two-bedroom apartment anyway. I'll save some money with a roommate, and since I'm right across the hall, moving my stuff'll be easy. The pros outweigh the cons, the only con being that, well, it's Sheldon." She winces a little. "Now that I think about it, the pros probably equal the cons."

"Penny," says Leonard, "I know we're friends, but this goes _way _beyond friendship. I could never ask you to do something like this."

"No, it will be good for both of us. I'll buy him a new train set to make the move easier for him. Plus, we'll be on each other's cases so much; he'll be too distracted to notice you gone." She grins at him, though the smile feels false on her face. She knows that the more likely scenario is that _she'll_ be the one to need a distraction from Leonard's leaving.

**A/N: So this is my first TBBT fanfic. Tell me what you think. **


	2. The Neener Neener Paradigm

_Sheldon_

"No," I say, after having just been told about the proposition of Penny being my new roommate. Although I've succeeded in pretending that Leonard's dead for the majority of the evening, it was impossible to not hear his hopeful ramblings of the disorganized Nebraskan Cheesecake Factory waitress moving across the hall and subleasing his room.

"But Sheldon, this is probably a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity; who _else_ is going to live with you?"

I roll over on my bed and face the wall, drawing my knees up under my chin. "Please, show a little respect; I believe social conventions dictate that I suffer through a mourning period. I don't know if you realize this, but my roommate has only just deceased."

"You're being ridiculous. You're acting as if I _want_ to leave. Just admit that me leaving has less to do with violating the Roommate Agreement and more to do with the fact that you're going to miss me."

I turn over to face Leonard. "Alright." I pause to expel a breathy bout of carbon dioxide. "I'm going to miss you."

Leonard blinks and stands awkwardly just inside my room. His hard, argumentative expression melts to that of one who is "deeply moved." "Really?" he asks.

"Bazinga."

Leonard rolls his eyes. "C'mon, Sheldon. Penny needs a roommate just as much as you do, and she's your friend. Think of it as if you're the one doing _her_ the favor."

I sit up and press my back up against my pillows. "Your suggestion is redundant – of course I'm the doer of the favor. The only benefit I reap in having her as my roommate is that she has the ability to drive me to work. Although she can be easily conditioned to display certain desirable roommate qualities, I find her company to be taxing, and my attention is far better spent on more important matters than training her; for example, I plan to take apart and reassemble my Lego model of the Death Star."

"Well, Sheldon, it's my room that's being subleased, and ultimately, it's my decision."

I consider this. "She'd never pass the first roommate barrier."

"She might." Leonard shrugs. "After all, she hangs out with us enough to know all about the nerdy stuff we do."

"Alright. Well then, if she can manage to pass the three barriers of roommatehood – unlikely – then I will accept Penny into this apartment. When she fails, and I have no doubt that she will, I will place my hands on my hips and berate you with the ever-classic _neener neener_." I demonstrate. "Neener neener," I add half-heartedly.

Leonard smiles. "Thank you, Sheldon. We'll start tomorrow."

xxxxx

_Penny_

"Won't Sheldon realize I'm cheating when I answer every question right?" I ask Leonard; he's sitting on my couch with a few flashcards, on which are scripted responses to Sheldon's roommate barriers.

"You're an actress," Leonard reminds me, "so you can make it look convincing. Pretend to think about it. As smart as he is, Sheldon's easily fooled."

"I almost don't feel right about this," I say, flipping over one of the cards: _What is the sixth noble gas?_

"It's the only way. What was I supposed to do? Let you go in blind?"

"I said _almost_," I snap. "And I'd appreciate it if you pretended like I had a chance in passing this stupid roommate test thingy without your help."

"You're right. I'm sorry." He stands up and hands me the other two cards. "I'd better get back before Sheldon realizes I'm gone. When you're ready, come over so we can begin, and I can start packing."

"Okay."

He is gone for a good thirty seconds when I hear someone at the door.

_Knock, knock, knock._

"Penny."

_Knock, knock, knock._

"Penny."

_Knock, knock, knock._

"Penny."

I stuff the cards under a couch cushion before opening the door. That is one thing I'd hear less of if I lived in the same apartment with Sheldon – his OCD series of knocks. "Hi, Sheldon. What is it?"

"Was Leonard just here?" Sheldon asks calmly, his face deadpan.

"Why do you ask?"

"I caught him coming through our door, and I found this activity suspicious. I specifically told him not to communicate with you prior to your interview. I trust that he has at least honored _that _agreement." Sheldon's tone is bitter.

"Oh, in that case, nope. Haven't seen him all day." I smile convincingly.

"Excellent. Are you ready to begin your interview?" he asks with a small smirk as he clasps his hands behind his back and gives me a condescending head tilt.

"No, not yet. Give me a few minutes."

"Very well," he says. "After this is over, I would not argue with escorting you to the market for a pint of ice cream. Considering everything, I am still your friend, and social conventions dictate that friends cheer up other friends who fail roommate interviews." He pauses, allowing himself one of his irritating breathy laughs.

I shut the door in his face and return to the flashcards.

Ten minutes later, I cross the hall. I open the door and walk in. Sheldon looks up at me from his spot on the couch, a clipboard in his lap and a pencil poised in his hand. "No," he says. "Try again. One doesn't just waltz into another's apartment for an interview."

I retreat to the doorway and knock twice on the open door. "Better?"

Sheldon rises from the couch and crosses the room in three swift bounds. Leonard hovers in the kitchen to watch the spectacle. "I'm Dr. Sheldon Cooper, B.S., M.S., M.A., Ph.D., Sc.D. And you are?"

"Um, Penny," I say, cocking an eyebrow at him.

"Quick! What is the sixth noble gas?"

"Radon."

Sheldon narrows his eyes at me. "Proceed." He allows me to move from the doorway and into the living room, at which point he asks me some silly nonsense about Star Trek. I take Leonard's advice and pretend to think deeply about Sheldon's questions. In reality, I'm thinking, _Shoes._ At the end of the interview, when Sheldon can't seem to find any reason to withhold the oh-so-rewarding access to his psycho-crazy roommatedom, he throws his clipboard down on the floor.

"Leonard, you _promised _you wouldn't help her cheat!" he shouts furiously.

Leonard looks appalled by this accusation. "I would never."

I grin at Sheldon. "Does that mean I get to live with you in your big ice thingy?"

Sheldon replies with a series of facial twitches.

I step forward and throw my arms around him, burying my face into the front of his Green Lantern t-shirt. "Hey, roomie," I whisper to his rigid body.

"Oh, lord."

**A/N: Please review : ) **


	3. The Monomyth Catalyst

_Penny_

Leonard's been gone for almost a week. I haven't cried at all, whereas Sheldon's cried enough for the both of us. Every night I can hear him through the wall we share, sobbing nonstop into his pillow. When he's not blubbering in his room, he's doodling math stuff on his white board or scribbling into his journal. He won't talk to me, Raj, or Howard – they've gotten to the point where they don't want to come over anymore. Twice, I've tried calling Leonard to ask for help, but all I get is voicemail.

Saturday morning, I hear the TV blaring in the living room. I groan and roll over to squint at my alarm clock: 6:15 AM. Sheldon's probably up watching _Doctor Who_. That's a good sign (for him) because at least he isn't too upset not to stick to his usual routine. For me, on the other hand…I could do without hearing the annoying sound effects of the TARDIS whodawhatty taking off and landing because – and don't ask me why I know what it's called – it sounds like there's a small pterodactyl in my living room.

I slap my pillow over my head and try to go back to sleep. But, of course, trying to achieve peace with Sheldon in the next room is a fool's errand:

_Knock, knock, knock._

"Penny."

_Knock, knock, knock._

"Penny."

_Knock, knock, knock._

"Penny."

I should probably be happy that Sheldon's talking to me again, but at 6:15, no one can be happy except Sheldon. _"What?"_ I shout, throwing my pillow at the door.

He opens the door a crack and cranes his neck around it to look at me. "Good morning, Penny. You left _this_ –" he holds up a pink cardigan pinched between his thumb and forefinger – "in the living room."

_"What?"_

Sheldon stares at me without blinking. "Your lack of understanding never ceases to astound me. How can I possibly translate this into more rudimentary English?" He lets out a dramatic sigh. "Penny, it was in _my spot_."

_"That's why you move it,"_ I hiss. _"You don't need to come knocking on my door about it." _

Sheldon jerks his head back in surprise. "Good lord, Penny. You're quite positively a nightmare in the morning."

"You've been a nightmare all week! What, are you done crying over Leonard now?" I look for another pillow to launch at him.

"I haven't been crying over Leonard," he denies in monotone. He pauses, still hovering in the doorway, and adds, "And since you're awake, might I suggest a roommate bonding experience? If you'd like to join me, I'm watching _Doctor Who_ and breakfasting on cereal."

I finally find my other pillow; it's fallen off the bed. I throw it at him and watch it bounce off of his surprised face. He scowls at me and drops my cardigan on the floor, at which point he leaves, slamming the door behind him. Three seconds pass before he's out there knocking again.

_"What do you want, Sheldon?"_

He comes in and picks up my cardigan, folding it and placing it on my dresser. He turns to the door, pauses, and picks up my pillow. He hands it to me. "Goodbye, Penny."

xxxxx

_Sheldon_

As I have never lived with a nonrelated female, having Penny in the next room has been an eye-opening experience to say the least. Her unhealthy preoccupation with cosmetics is starting to negatively affect me, as she splays her bottles of Maybelline New York concealers in a higgledy-piggledy fashion about the bathroom sink. Also, because there appears to be eyeliner smudges on the mirror, I am fairly certain that she has not been abiding my stand-behind-the-tape regulations; I plan to bring these infractions up at the next Roommate Inquiry. No mercy.

This first week has been strenuous. Between the cosmetic invasion of the communal bathroom and Penny leaving her garments in unsavory locations – I discovered a cheetah-print brassière behind the toilet – I've been forced to flee to my room in near tears. Her behavior is, quite frankly, intolerable. I've tried calling Leonard on multiple occasions to protest, but as of now, I've been unable to reach him. Up to this point, I've taken to ignoring Penny entirely; when she's not looking, I am partial to staring at the back of her head in hopes that I can make her brain explode with my mind, such as in the 1981 film, _Scanners. _

Before this morning, Penny exhausted all means of bribing me into talking to her. She bought me a new train set, but it was a set with far less integrity than the one I already own; I left her a note explaining that I shall not be bought with cheap Walmart hokum, to which she responded by rearranging the order of my cereal boxes. However, the fact that she abandoned her foul, hot pink cardigan in the universally recognized region of My Spot has drawn the metaphorical line; I could no longer go on without speaking to her. I even attempted to make amends by suggesting that she partake in television-watching with me, to which she engaged in uncouth cushion-casting at my still-youthful visage. I will not, as they say, stand for it.

At 11:00 AM, Penny emerges from the messy confines of her room, the effects of sleep smudged about her eyes. Her hair is in disarray as she lumbers out into the living room in her butterfly pajamas, scratching her backside in an absent-minded sort of way. She comes to a halt as she notices me staring at her from the couch. She throws me a look of sheer repugnance and says, "Stop trying to blow up my brain."

Drat. I look away quickly, feigning obliviousness. "I don't know what you're talking about, Penny," I say in my display of near-mastered sarcasm, lifting my eyebrows a fraction of a millimeter.

"Yeah, whatever," she says as she puts on a pot of coffee. She glances at me over her shoulder. "Sheldon, I think we need to talk."

"My thoughts exactly," I say. "Let's begin with your underwear."

"My…what?" Penny abandons her coffee-making mission to gape at me.

"Penny, as aesthetically-pleasing as your undergarments are in terms of the universal consensus of what is, and what isn't, _cute_ – for example, I, myself, enjoy cheetah-print as much as the next person – I cannot allow you to parade your soiled underwear for the world, pardon my hyperbole, to see." I try to give her my best reassuring head tilt.

_"Soiled?"_

"Ah, yes, Penny. I'm glad you've asked for clarification. I didn't mean to say that you soil your undergarments on regular basis with your own bodily waste; I merely meant 'soiled' in reference to 'unclean.' Now that we've gotten semantics out of the way, what do you retort?" I remember my manners and gesture to the arm chair adjacent to the couch in hopes that she will sit down to speak with me.

"Sheldon," she says, taking up my offer on the arm chair, "I know this is hard for you. But if it makes you feel any better, it's not exactly a walk in the park for me either."

"Which park?"

"What?" She frowns.

"I need to know which park you're alluding to. How else will we be able to establish the level of difficulty it takes for one to walk through it?" I'm beginning lose my patience with her.

"Sheldon, sweetie, shut up. Just listen. Think of this as a quest you have to complete, like in one of your little games. In order to see Leonard again, you have to live with me for a while." She laces her fingers together in her lap and leans forward. "Do you think you can do that?"

I hesitate, weighing the validity of her proposal in my mind. "What about Joseph Campbell's monomyth?"

"Say what?"

"Well, as we seem to be embarking on a heroic quest, it's only natural that I work out which character is embodied by which person." When Penny continues to stare at me, I go on, "For example, as I am the lead male in this expedition, I assume that I take on the burden of being the hero. You, smaller in stature and weaker in mind, must play the role as my sidekick and traveling companion. Or, considering your antagonizing nature, you might be cast as the villain. According to Campbell's research in the hero's journey – such as is published in his 1949 book, _The Hero with a Thousand Faces_ – we'll also need a tutelary figure. I vote Raj over Howard, as Howard only has a master's degree and as an insight-bestowing figure, Howard would make a commendable failure. Do you agree, or don't you?"

Her eyes look bored.

"I know what you're thinking –," I begin.

She stops me. "I doubt it."

"No, trust me. I understand that research in the liberal arts is inferior to that of the research I conduct, but occasionally, one must reference literary achievements in order to throw the less important scholars the proverbial bone. Life without hope must be very drab indeed." I smirk. "For the record, they're welcome."

"I can't remember all you just said, but sure, sweetie. You can be the hero."

"Excellent. You may now address me as Sheldor."

"Well, Sheldor, part of your hero's monolith is – "

"Please, Penny, a monolith is a pillar of rock. Unless you're attempting a weak innuendo, I think you mean _monomyth_. Hint: it has _myth_ in it, which is an ancient story that usually contains some kind of quest." Sometimes, it's exhausting how helpful I can be.

Penny clears her throat. "Okay, sorry, _monomyth_. Do you remember my friend Christy?"

"The whore of Omaha?"

"Yeah, her. Anyway, she got reengaged to my cousin after her visit with us. They're getting married next weekend, and since Leonard is busy with his mom, I was hoping you would be my plus one." She smiles at me in a pained sort of way, as if she's experiencing difficulty in defecating.

"You want _me_ to go with you?" I look at her incredulously. "In case you cannot tell, this is me looking at you incredulously."

"Sheldon, please?" She's begging, and it's remarkably unattractive.

"Why can't you ask Koothrappali or Wolowitz?"

"Raj can only talk to me when he's drunk, and though there will be plenty of alcohol at the wedding, I'm not exactly a fan of Drunk Raj. And Howard? I'd rather stick a fork in my eye and play 3D chess with you for a week straight than bring him along. C'mon, Sheldon. Be a pal. If you don't, living with me will become _very _difficult. Meaning, I'll hide my 'soiled' underwear under your pillow." She scrunches her lips up in the way she does when she knows that she's won.

"Fine," I say, defeated. "But we're taking the train."

She reaches forward and ruffles my hair in a most unbecoming manner. "Dream on, sweetie."

xxxxx

**A/N: I think I spent a lot more time on Sheldon's POV than Penny's, but that's okay. Also, I know this was mostly a filler chapter to get things going. Review anyway. **


	4. The Juicy Juice Implementation

_Penny_

"Oh, what fresh hell is this?" Sheldon asks, clutching his carryon bag to his chest. He walks down the aisle of the plane, trying not to accidentally brush anyone as he passes.

I follow behind him, trying not to laugh at his displeasure. "What's wrong, Sheldon? Never ridden coach?"

"My mother made me, once," he jabbers at me over his shoulder, "though I was heavily sedated with NyQuil at the time. How she got me through the metal detectors without raising suspicion, I may never know." I do; a fully alert Sheldon took forever going through the metal detectors because he found it necessary to tell all the little guard people with wands in the LAX airport how metal detectors came to be invented. Sheldon then thoroughly questioned them; he was flabbergasted over their lack of knowledge on the subject. Then, he spent a solid ten minutes griping to me about "the failure of today's educational system."

"I'm sure you'll be fine. If you get scared, you can hold my hand," I tell the back of his head.

He pauses and turns to face me. "Now is not the time for jokes, Penny."

"I wasn't…," I started, trailing off after seeing his familiar blue-eyed blaze. "O-_kay_. Never mind."

He finds his seat towards the back of the plane, sitting in the aisle seat. I squeeze by him to the window seat, smoothing out the wrinkles in my skirt. Just as I'm getting comfortable, Sheldon taps my shoulder. "This isn't going to work; people might touch me on their way back from the bathroom. Switch with me," he says.

I know better than to argue – if I told him no, I'd never hear the end of it all the way to Omaha. "Fine," I tell him in exasperation, standing up so he can slide over behind me. I sit in the aisle seat. "Happy now?"

"No," he says, "but I suppose it will have to do." He sits quietly for a few moments, looking out at the pavement of the runway. He grips his knees very tightly, and he can't seem to look away from the window. He takes a deep breath and says, "I take it upon myself to warn you that I'm not a very relaxed flier."

"Really? I never would have guessed." Except for the fact that he's sweating profusely.

"I understand your confusion – I'm generally quite skilled in everything. One would think that flying for me would be a walk in Pasadena Memorial Park." He gives me a pointed look.

I resist a much needed eye-roll.

"But," he continues, "I find myself ill at ease. Quite ill at ease indeed." He pulls at his collar and makes a weird hacking sound.

Sheldon becomes more and more unbearable as liftoff grows closer. He makes one of the flight attendants go over the in-case-of-an-emergency instructions like a gazillion times. If that isn't enough, he nearly rips some poor girl's head off for sneezing and then tells her to be quiet when she dissolves into tears.

When the plane begins moving on the runway, Sheldon grabs his armrests and chants, _"Oh God, oh God, oh God"_ and _"Penny, Penny, Penny."_ As soon as the plane lifts into the air, he faces forward, refusing to look out the window. "I don't know if this is my acrophobia acting up or my pteromerhanophobia. You know, it's interesting – pteromerhanophobia, or fear of flying, is quite common, and is largely caused by the fact that the media sensationalize – " Sheldon briefly glances out of the window as he speaks. He stops, and a nearly inaudible "oh" escapes his lips as he faints, falling limp against me. His head lolls onto my shoulder.

I turn towards him and pat his pale cheek. "Oh you poor baby," I say, laughing at him all the same. "Sheldon?" I try to lift his head, but he falls back against me once more. He only manages to stir half-way to Omaha. Then, he falls limp again when he realizes how high up in the air we are.

Luckily, I don't have to help him off the plane. He's oddly quiet as we make our way out of the airport to where my dad is waiting with his pick-up truck. "Sheldon, sweetie, it wasn't that bad. Everyone just thought you were sleeping. And, hey, you didn't wet your pants like that one time," I tell him. Sheldon pretends not to have heard me, and I know that he's already regretted going to this wedding with me.

"Hiya, Slugger," Dad says, throwing an arm around my neck and rubbing my head with his knuckles. "How was your flight?"

Sheldon, thinking my dad is talking to him, says, "I don't want to talk about it." He turns to me, putting his forefinger in my face. "We're taking the train home." Then, he sullenly climbs into the truck and slams the door.

xxxxx

_Sheldon_

Penny has forced me to wear the crisp, black suit I wore to accept the Chancellor's Award for Science – I had to purchase new pants, as I am unable to locate my original pair. This suit has proven to be more trouble than it's worth, as Penny has taken to crooning at me every time I turn a corner. "You're so handsome!" she repeatedly tells me, as if I don't already know.

Indeed, I find that many women have the inability to keep their eyes off of me as I walk into the church with Penny. Suddenly, I find myself suspicious as to whether or not this suit is a magic suit – I feel akin to the anime character, Erza Scarlet, in her Seduction Armor. I am about to voice my opinions to Penny when she pulls on my sleeve and beckons me down on a pew.

"Oh, lord," I say, "it's my childhood all over again."

"What was that?" she whispers, leaning so close to me that I am overpowered by the floral scent of her perfume. In addition, she's wearing a salmon-colored dress that, for once, seems to complement her skin tone.

I wrinkle my nose and lean away from her. "My mother used to make me go to church, despite my strident protests." I clear my throat and begin to mimic my mother's Texan twang,_"Shelly, git yer skinny li'l butt down on that bench and pray to Jesus before I take away your death ray."_ I place my hands on my knees and sniff the consecrated air with defiance. "Well, the bazinga's on her considering the damn ray never did work properly. Fortunately, having your cousin's wedding in this church serves me well, as I can now tell my mother I've held up my end of the bargain in completing my annual church visit."

"Sheldon, I don't think this counts," Penny says, touching my shoulder. "You're about to see the union of my drunk ass cousin and the girl he knocked up, a.k.a. the whore of Omaha. Them marrying in a church is probably just to put on a front." When Penny says "probably," she pronounces it as "prolly" – a characteristic that irritates me to no end.

To show respect to the marrying couple, I feign interest in the ceremony, though in reality, I am counting the number of wooden slats in the far wall. I force myself not to blink, as I would hate to lose count. My vision blurs as the glands in my eyes secrete fluid, forcing me to blink rapidly. Damn thee, lacrimation.

"Sheldon," Penny whispers, "are you _crying_?" Her face adopts an expression of adoration. "Aww, Sheldon. Who would've known that you were such a romantic?"

I turn my head to look at her, waiting for the "bazinga" to follow. When there is none, I open my mouth to argue, but am immediately interrupted by the uproarious sound of uncouth clapping. The bride and groom are fused together at the lips, and find myself observing them with grim fascination.

"I love weddings," says Penny, linking her arm through mine as we leave the church.

Again, I wait for her to identify the bazinga, but she does not. Puzzled, I inwardly suggest that I revisit the social concepts of comedy, as I seem to be recognizing humor where there is none. I wriggle out of her embrace as we walk through the parking lot peppered with dried splotches of gum, and I muse about the events of the ceremony.

xxxxx

_Penny_

At the reception, I lose sight of Sheldon because I'm pulled into a large circle of family members all wanting to poke fun at my cousin's crude make-out sesh with Christy at the alter. When I finally manage to slip away, I see that Sheldon's seated himself at a table surrounded by the rednecks that never graduated from my high school.

He sees me and flutters his hand at me enthusiastically. "Oh, Penny," he says, his eyes alight, "I've secured the best seat – the pinnacle of perfection, as they say."

As who says? That's what I want to know.

He pats the seat next to him, and I sit down. He tilts his head to the side and says, "Don't look now, but the man next to you has the most unfortunate brow ridge." Why it would matter if the man catches me staring is anyone's guess, considering Sheldon never bothers to lower his voice. "Excuse me," says Sheldon, leaning across me to speak to the man on my left, "were your parents related?"

_"Sheldon,"_ I hiss, kicking him beneath the table.

"Ow," he complains. "I was only making conversation. If you think you can do it better – unlikely – I highly recommend you try."

These guys are old hunting buddies. I lean into the table and bring up the hunting trips we've taken together. "Remember that big buck that one winter?"

Brow Ridge, or Billy, nods. "That was the biggest I'd ever seen. Hoo, boy, you skinned that thing like nobody's business."

Sheldon leans back in his chair. "Fascinating," he says, before joining the discussion. "Ah, yes. The mammals of the family _Cervidae_. The white-tailed deer, or _Odocoileus virginianus_ as it is known in the science world, is, interestingly enough, the state mammal of Nebraska – it was elected as such in 1981. Although, given that everyone at this table is either from or is a current resident of Nebraska, my little factoid is most likely superfluous in nature. However, what you may not know is a little something I picked up from the biology department." Sheldon lets out an inhuman squeal, startling everyone in the room. "That, my friends, is the sound of a fawn calling out for his mother."

The other men at the table share secret looks. I bury my face in my hands, wishing I could disappear on the spot as the men begin booming with laughter. Sheldon joins them in his short gasping laughs, though to me he says, "I will never fully understand humor."

"Sheldon," I say, "they're making _fun_ of you."

"I see," he says, pursing his lips. "Well."

I grab the glass closest to me and gulp down the toasting champagne. "Have some," I told him. "You'll feel better."

"Alcohol?" he scoffs. "I don't think so, Penny. Unlike you, I choose not to be subjected to slurred speech, loss of balance, ataxia, and impaired judgment. Additionally, these pants were expensive."

The men start laughing again; Sheldon recoils in alarm.

"Sheldon, you're not going to lose your pants. Anyways, this is just apple juice." I smack my lips. "Pretty good. Juicy Juice by the taste of it." I wave an oiled, white-vested waiter over. "Can we have some more apple juice over here?" I wink at him. "My _friend_ here needs to loosen up."

The waiter smiles and leaves wordlessly.

"That's odd," says Sheldon, holding up his toasting glass to the light. "Why would they supply apple juice at a wedding?"

I grab the glass of the man next to me when he isn't looking and down it. I'm feeling a little giggly. "Maybe they're Mormon."

"Shouldn't you know?" he asks, eyeing me suspiciously. "They're _your_ family."

"Well, if you don't want it, give it to me." I hold my hand out expectantly.

His lips tighten. "No, Penny. It's _my_ apple juice." He tilts his head back and swallows down the contents of his glass. He coughs and throws me the dirtiest look. "This is _not_ apple juice."

The men laugh again. One of them thumps Sheldon on the back enthusiastically. The waiter comes back with the bottle of champagne and refills the empty glasses. As he's leaving, I say, "Uh, sweetie? Leave the bottle." He hands it to me.

"Drink it! Drink it! Drink it!" the men chant at Sheldon.

"Oh, lord," he says. "This must be what peer pressure feels like." He laughs a little. "Of course, that's based under the assumption that I consider these inbreeds as my peers. Which," he adds, "I don't." He looks around the table at the eager faces of the guys from my high school. "You know, this is not unlike the Asch Paradigm. In the 1950s, a series of experiments were performed on the subject of conformity. For example, there might be a group of students given a so-called 'vision test.' However, only one of the students was actually ignorant to the parameters of the experiment, while the others were accomplices to the proctor. To make a short story shorter, the accomplices deliberately shouted out the wrong answers, and the ignorant student found himself bending to the will of peer pressure, even though he himself did not agree with their judgment. Isn't that fascinating?"

He's killed my buzz. I look at him with deadened eyes. "Sheldon, just drink."

"O-kay," he says, downing his recently refilled glass.

By the time we're actually _supposed_ to be toasting, I can't be sure how much Sheldon's had to drink. He's deep in a one-sided conversation with the man next to him – the man, Joe, keeps flicking his eyes over to me, clearly hoping that I'll rescue him. Sheldon's swaying a little, clutching his glass in his fist.

Someone clinks their glass with a knife, and everyone's eyes swivel to the front table where the best man stands, raising his champagne. He says something short and to the point about the bride and groom, and is on the verge of sitting down when Sheldon leaps up from the table and stumbles to the front.

"I have something to say," Sheldon announces loudly.

"No, no, no," I mumble, mostly to myself. "Sweetie, please." I drink some more to ward off the embarrassment that is sure to come as Sheldon leaps on top of the wedding party's table and greets the whore of Omaha in what I can only assume is Kingon.

xxxxx

**A/N: To be continued...**

**Sorry to cut it off right when Sheldon's being drunk, but this chapter was getting a little long. Review, as always.**


	5. The Coital Corollary

_Penny_

Sheldon crouches on top of the wedding party's table, his nose inches from Christy's. He's breathing heavily into the microphone that he managed to wrestle from the best man. "_So_," he says, "nuqneH, qaStaH nuq?"

"Please, God, no," I plead aloud, debating whether or not I should go up to the front.

He shifts from his crouched position to standing fully upright on the table. He spins to face the crowd, saluting me with his champagne glass as he does so. "How is _everyone _doing tonight?" he calls, each of his syllables dramatically drawn-out. "I will undertake the role of Master of Ceremonies for this evening's endeavors. Who am I?" He pauses long enough to make everyone in the room feel uncomfortable. "I am _so_ glad you asked. I'm Dr. Sheldon Cooper." He takes a moment to announce and count his degrees off on his fingers before continuing. "Before we begin, let's delve into some history, shall we? Now, I know what you're all thinking. That I'm a theoretical physicist, right? '_Shouldn't he be talking about String Theory, Twistor Theory, or – to reference more general terminology – quantum mechanics?'_ The answer, my fellow Homos, is _yes. _Fear not; I'll get there. But first, let's talk about coitus."

For a moment, he falls silent, scanning the tables with drunken eyes. Then – "Sexual intercourse," he exclaims loudly, startling some of the older women. "It can be known by many names. Copulation, penetration – in some instances, fornication – lovemaking, coupling, procreation, carnality, the Vulcans'_ Pon Farr_, making the beast with two backs…" To the shock of the crowd, Sheldon even drops the F-bomb in his list. He sucks in a _whoosh_ of air._ "Need I go on?"_

The guys at my table cheer loudly.

Sheldon points to us with his microphone as he inhales more champagne. "That table knows what I'm talking about, _don't they_?" Is that a smile on his face? "Yes, as human beings we are all quite familiar with the concept of coitus. Some…more so than others." He winks at me. "Right, Penny?"

"Oh, God." The alcohol definitely isn't doing anything to hide my embarrassment. I have to stop him.

He sways a little as he walks to the other side of the table, nudging aside platters of chicken wings with his shoe; I'm scared he's going to fall. "Apparently, our species takes _so much_ pleasure in the notion – pun intended – that history has invoked the constitution of matrimony to justify the supposed amorous act of 'lovemaking.'" Sheldon makes air quotes with his fingers. He glances over his shoulder to face the groom and adds, "Have fun with that, buddy."

This has gone on way too far. I get up on my feet, my body swaying almost as badly as Sheldon's. I feel everyone's eyes on me as I approach him and tug on the bottom of his suit jacket to get his attention – he looks down at me with a small frown. I yank the microphone from his hand.

"Sorry everyone," I squeak, "alcohol _really _doesn't agree with him." I hesitate. "Oh, and to the bride and groom!"

Sheldon tries to combat me for the microphone. "Excuse me, Penny, but I wasn't finished." He lowers his voice and adds in a whisper, "I haven't commenced my song-and-dance number yet."

I swat his hands away. "Get down from the table, sweetie. I don't want you to hurt yourself."

He crosses his arms and looks down his nose at me. He has crazy eyes. "As much as I value your sentiment, I believe I like it infinitely better up here."

I pull on his sleeve. He fights me and leans back to drag me into the table, but luckily, I'm stronger than he is. This bitch grew up in Nebraska. I yank harder, and he topples forward off of the table and onto me, pinning me to the floor. His lips brush against mine, and we're a tangle of limbs on the cold tile.

He seems to be frozen, and let me tell you – he's heavier than he looks. Sheldon's no hollow-boned boy. I wriggle beneath him and hiss, "Sheldon, _get off of me_."

He doesn't respond. His fear of heights must have finally kicked in during his fall or something because as I attempt to push him off of me, his eyes flutter as if he'd briefly lost consciousness. As Sheldon stirs, he gazes at me, his eyes drunk and feverish. I can tell he's having trouble focusing on my face. "Penny," he mumbles, his lips hovering over mine. "Don't…"

"Don't what?" I ask softly.

There's a long pause as his mouth takes pains to form the following words: "Don't you dare sneeze."

I roll my eyes. "O-_kay_, big boy, let's get you home."

xxxxx

_Sheldon_

One manna-dipped nugget of knowledge that I've happened across with this experience is that there is no combination of adjectives that exists in the English language that can properly express the agony that is my hangover. Or, for lack of better words: _Sweet Jesus, it hurts. _

I've awakened on someone's dirt-colored sofa. There is a laundry basket of soiled hosiery nearby, and the air smells of kitty litter. My first thought is that my mother was right about creationism, and my previous disbelief has earned me a non-negotiable one-way ticket to the restricting confines of my own person hell. Which leads me to my second thought: I must be dead.

My pillow is hard, rubbery, and oddly shaped. I try to adjust it beneath my head, and it emits an unearthly _giggle._ I recoil, startled, to find that I've been lying in Penny's lap. She pats my cheek in a manner that one might mistake for affectionate.

"How are you feeling?" she asks as I sit up and rub my eyes with the heels of my hands. "You've been out since last night."

I look down at my body. "I didn't lose my pants."

"A fact celebrated by all," she replies evenly. She then breaks into a smile. "You may not have lost your pants, but you did give everyone a _fascinating_ sex talk. My dad says you're no longer allowed at any of our family get-togethers."

"I spoke of coitus?" I question, flabbergasted. "That can't be right." I pinch the bridge of my nose. What a complete and unmitigated failure this wedding has proven to be.

"Yeah," she says, scrunching up her lips, "and then you tackled me to the floor and kissed me. So, of course, _everyone_ thought you were trying to demonstrate what you talked about in your little sex speech thingy."

I feel my face twitching uncontrollably. There are several thoughts swarming about my cerebral cortex, the most vocal one being, _Did I brush my teeth?_ I try to verbalize this concern, but all that comes out is a strangled "Uhnnnnng."

"Oh, sweetie, it's okay. I know it was an accident. Plus, I take full responsibility for getting you drunk in the first place. It's just, those guys were making fun of you, and I thought it would get you to lighten up a bit…" Penny hangs her head in what appears to be shame.

"Therein lies the reason I don't drink." I shift awkwardly in my seat – I'm on middle cushion when I should really be on the left. However, my head hurts so much that the act of moving bothers me far more than sitting on the proper side of the couch.

"Our flight leaves in a couple hours. If you don't faint on the plane again, I'll sing you 'Soft Kitty.'" She touches my shoulder, which is a compromise for my distaste with hugs. She sighs. "It's time to go home."

xxxxx

**A/N: A brief anecdote: Today, school started up again. I got to my Hollywood Cinema class a little early, so I thought I would pass the time by writing the beginning of this chapter. I look around the room and check to make sure no one's going to peek at my laptop since I needed to look up some phrases in Klingon. But, OF COURSE, as soon as I'm on some stupid "LEARN KLINGON" website, a cute boy sits behind me and says, "You speak Klingon?" I had two choices. 1) I could tell him I was learning Klingon. 2) I could tell him I was only looking up Klingon for a TBBT fanfiction. Naturally, I chose the alternative third and pretended not to hear him. Oh, the hardships I partake for you guys. That being said, you HAVE to leave me a review. **


	6. The Crying Conundrum

_Sheldon _

When we return to our – and by "our," I mean "my" – apartment, we have an unpleasant surprise awaiting us across the hall. The door to Penny's old apartment is propped open by several moving boxes, all of which are seemingly arranged without a discernible pattern.

"New neighbor," Penny says. Well, obviously – that female never does seem to have an original thought in that rural, rudimentary Nebraskan brain of hers, bless her heart. She sighs. "It's almost a little sad, seeing my apartment go like that. C'mon, let's say hello."

"I don't think so," I say, taking my key out to unlock the door. "As I recall, I've still been unable to rid myself of the_ last_ neighbor I said hello to." I stop and look at her pointedly.

"Quit being a smelly pooper, Shelly Cooper," Penny tells me, grabbing my arm and dragging me across the hall. We abandon our luggage in the hallway.

Penny raps her knuckles on the partially opened door three times.

"Penny," I mumble out of the side of my mouth.

She stops and looks at me. "Really, Sheldon? I don't even live here anymore."

A man comes to the door, but not just any man: a particular stooped, dark-haired, stern-faced, insufficiently intelligent physicist. Before you guess Leonard, you're incorrect.

"Kripke," I hiss, recoiling.

"Wewl, who do we have hewe?" he asks, ignoring me to trail his eyes up Penny's bare legs. "Woxanne, wight?"

"Penny," says Penny, her tone flat. She lowers her brows and takes on the demeanor of one who is extraordinarily unimpressed, such as I do whenever Howard Wolowitz attempts to join a conversation.

"What are you doing here, Kripke? This is _our_ building." I place emphasis on the word "our" in order to underscore my entitlement to a pre-established territory. Had I been born with certain territorial qualities of, say, an African Hunting Dog, or _Lycaon pictus_, I might unzip the front of my pants and urinate on the floor in front of his door.

"Not any mowe," Kripke replies with an irritating air of arrogance. "Howawd towd me about the apawtment. I just had to check it out. He towd me she moved, but he nevew said it was acwoss the haw." Kripke gestures at Penny, his eyes doing unspeakable things to her.

_Damn it, Wolowitz. _"Ah, yes. Penny lives with _me_." Here, I stress the word "me" to suggest a certain sense of ownership. Of course, no one in good conscious can physically own another human being, but I like to think myself warranted to the emotional possession of my current roommate.

"Not fow wong," Kripke says, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorway. "Not fow wong."

"Uh," says Penny, snapping her fingers – to my great annoyance – at Kripke, "I'm standing right here."

"Penny, hush," I say, silencing her. "The males are talking."

She throws her hands up in classic defeat. "Whatever." She retreats to our apartment, slamming the door behind her and leaving Kripke and I staring at one another.

I shift awkwardly, but refuse to break eye contact. "As far as arguments are concerned, what do social conventions dictate we do now?" My eyes burn. "I am not one for physical altercations, but, as of now, I am overwhelmed by the strong desire to punch you."

"What's the point?" he asks. "You banished the wady, so now thewe's no one to impwess."

"You raise a valid point." My eyes start to tear up. "Well, then. We shall continue this at a later date. I'll draw up a schedule."

"Fine," he says.

"Fine," I parrot. I spin on my heel, take pleasure in blinking my eyes, and return to my own apartment. Penny's stretched out on the sofa. "The battle of wits is on," I announce. "As I am currently your closest male friend, both in proximity and emotional attachment, I'll have you know that I plan to defend you tooth-and-nail, so to speak."

She stares at me with her ever-familiar _"what?"_ eyes. "What?" she asks. Nailed it.

"Kripke," I elaborate. "I'm defending you against him."

"Why?"

I stare at her incredulously. "Penny, don't be obtuse. You don't mean to say that you're oblivious to the way he looks at you? Although I excel at many things, I admit I generally fail when it comes to the subject of reading body language I am unfamiliar with, and yet even _I_ could tell he wanted to quote unquote 'make the moves' on you."

She rolls her eyes in a childish manner. "Of course he does. Who doesn't?"

I am rendered speechless.

"What does it matter?" she asks. "It's Barry _Kripke_. There's no way I'd want anything he's dishing out. I mean, c'mon. The guy's a mouth-breather." She adjusts the couch cushion behind her head. "A total loser."

I think for a few moments before replying, "Would you object to putting that in writing so I can present it to Kripke? I do so very much want to win."

"Win what?" she asks. "How do you win if I reject Kripke?"

"An _excellent_ question, Penny. If you reject Kripke, then I am reestablished as the alpha male on this floor. Additionally, I hate that guy – any and all of his misfortunes translate to achievements in my book, assuming, of course, that I keep a book in which I log all of my achievements." I pause. "I should do that."

She laughs. "If you were anyone else, I'd think you were jealous. But you're Sheldon, so that would be stupid."

"You're right. That _would_ be stupid, as jealousy is an alien concept to me. I'm sure I've felt it before, but have been unconscious of doing so."

"You've _so _been jealous before. Remember when Amy went on that date with Stuart?" she presses.

"That was different. I was genuinely concerned for her wellbeing – to think that Amy Farrah Fowler was wasting her time on that unsatisfactory excuse for a living organism made my skin crawl." I sit down in my seat on the couch and cross my arms in a display of defiance.

"So…How are you and Amy? Is she still your girlfriend?" Penny leans forward, expecting some sort of moist and supple information.

"By contract, I suppose," I say evenly. "However, it's been several weeks since I've seen her in person. She sent me a rather amusing text message the other day, which reminds me – I should respond to that at some point."

"Are you happy?"

"Am I happy? Penny, I have an IQ of 187. My digestive system remains regular, as I maintain a meticulous schedule for my bowel movements. I am the nucleus of our social group. Additionally, I've been gifted with these aesthetically-pleasing facial features. Of course I'm happy." I clear my throat. "If you are, however, referring to my relationship with Amy Farrah Fowler, I suppose it could be better." I provide Penny with an elaborate shrug. "Quite frankly, I have no desire to improve the relationship, and I take it that she doesn't either. I find myself seeking the proper time to terminate our agreement."

"You want to break up with her?" Penny demands. Her voice softens. "Are you going to be okay?" She scoots towards me on the couch and invades my personal space. She puts her head on my shoulder. "Do you want to talk about it?"

I do not try to hide my befuddlement. "But Penny, I just did."

Without warning, Penny dissolves into tears. She crawls into my lap and wails into my chest. "I m-miss L-L-Leonard," she sobs. Ah, of course. Typical females; they always manage to morph other people's problems into their own.

"There, there," I murmur, overcome with discomfort as her tears soak the front of my Flash t-shirt. I try to devise an escape route, but she has a remarkable grip upon the fabric of my shirt. My only option is to disrobe and run for it, an option that seems unlikely for me to do willingly.

"I d-don't know what t-to do," she snivels. "He r-rarely answers m-my calls, and when h-he does, I n-never know what t-to say."

"Dear, Lord," I say. "He's been answering _your_ calls? That's entirely unfair. He has yet to even respond to one of the many voicemails I've left him."

"Sh-Sheldon, that's not the p-point." She wipes her eyes on my shirt, leaving black mascara prints. My face twitches as she continues, "The p-point is that I care m-more about him going away th-than he cares about l-leaving me."

I scoff. "Leonard didn't leave you. He left _me_. I'm the one who should be upset." I try to think of something – anything – that can get me out of the situation I'm in. I've never been proficient in comforting another human being, so my mind is currently drawing a blank. I pat her head awkwardly. "I'll…assist you through this." Please, Lord, anything to stop her from crying.

She sniffs and tilts her head back to look up at me. "Thank you, Sheldon. You're a g-good friend. I'm sorry about all this. I know my crying is probably making you uncomfortable."

_Yes, and your pronunciation of "probably" as "prolly" makes me uncomfortable too. _"On occasion, I cry as well, though I prefer to refer to the action as 'lacrimation.' It sounds manlier, albeit slightly dirty. The only distinction between you and me is that I choose to weep in privacy." I try not to look at her pointedly, as it could be a catalyst for the water works to start up again. I add this next part just for the brownie points. "I do so very much hate it when you're unhappy."

She smiles, her face swollen and red. "I don't care what anyone says, Sheldon. You may be out of your little mind half the time, but –" She interrupts herself by climbing up to me and softly kissing my cheek. " – you're a sweetheart."

xxxxx

**A/N: Don't think I don't see some of y'all putting me on your alert list but not reviewing. Suggestions are welcome. **


	7. The Tampered Thermostat Theorem

_Sheldon_

Penny drove me to work this morning. Oddly enough, she played all of my car games without complaint, and then she wished me a fruitful day when she dropped me off – although, not precisely in those words. Penny's excessive cheerfulness towards me makes me feel as if I'm in an alternate reality. Even several hours later in the cafeteria, I can't seem to get my mind off of it.

Wolowitz and Koothrappali set their lunch trays down at my table, snapping me from my reverie. Wolowitz leans across the table to me and says in that dark, sleazy voice of his, "I heard Kripke moved into Penny's old place."

"Thanks to you," I say without looking at him as I violently stab a tater tot with my fork. I release an exasperated sigh. "I'm exasperated," I add, throwing my fork down. I make eye-contact with him. "I thought we were supposed to be friends. Granted, you're my least favorite member of our social group, and I often consider you as a mere acquaintance, but is that any way to treat me?"

"Dude, you're the one who always makes fun of him for not having a doctorate," Koothrappali tells me. "You totally deserve it."

"It's _Kripke_," I emphasize. "As if seeing him at work isn't bad enough. On top of that, I'm still trying to adjust having Penny in my life."

Wolowitz rolls his eyes. "What's the big _deal?_ Penny was always at your apartment before Leonard left anyway."

"I miss Leonard," Koothrappali laments. Though, quite frankly, what he should lament is the sweater vest he happened to pick out this morning.

I ignore my young, brown Indian friend and tell Wolowitz, "You wouldn't understand, Howard. Not unless you lived with her."

"Well, _apparently_, living with you isn't such a walk in the park either."

I pick my fork up again and roll a tater tot across my tray with it. "What is it with people and using that phrase? 'A walk in the park.' Generally, most parks are full of people walking their dogs – I can't see how maneuvering oneself through outdoor terrain infested with bloodthirsty canines and their bowel movement landmines could be an easy procedure for anyone to undertake." Wolowitz is making a face at me. I then process what he previously said. "Hey," I add, "and what do you mean living with me isn't a walk in the park? According to whom?"

"According to Penny," says Wolowitz with an unkind air of smugness. "She told Bernadette what a pain in the ass you've been. I mean, more so than usual."

"She said that?" I ask, shrinking back. There is a strange feeling brewing in the pit of my stomach that I can't seem to place, and something hot burns on the back of my neck. "I see."

"Speaking of Bernadette," says Wolowitz, "she's coming along for dinner. She said Amy might come too. Is that cool?"

I wonder why Penny would say what she did to Bernadette. I was previously under the assumption that everything was going just fine, at least for Penny. For me, of course, it is an entirely different story, as Penny maintains loathsome roommate qualities – her sense of hygiene is constantly in question. However, the idea that she would have an objection to my behavior as a roommate is, quite frankly, disturbing.

"Sheldon?" Koothrappali asks.

I blink. "Yes, what?"

Wolowitz exchanges glances with Koothrappali before saying, "I asked if Bernadette and Amy could come over for dinner tonight. Thai food, right?"

"Yes, yes, fine. It _is_ a Monday," I say, distracted. I've finally been able to place the emotion I felt earlier upon hearing Penny's declaration of me being a "pain in the ass." The feeling was more of a combination of two emotions, one being a hint of embarrassment. The other, however, was a deep sense of complete and utter unhappiness.

xxxxx

_Penny_

Before Leonard left for New Jersey, he drew up Sheldon's eating schedule in easy-to-read notes for me. Monday is Thai food night; Sheldon gets mi krop and chicken satay with extra peanut sauce from Siam Palace. Because Sheldon doesn't have his own car, the burden falls to me to pick up everyone's order.

I'm still in my Cheesecake Factory uniform as I stumble through our apartment door, my arms loaded with plastic bags of Thai food. Sheldon's on my case at once, checking to make sure I've gotten everything right.

"Jeez, Sheldon, let me breathe," I tell him, dumping everything on the coffee table.

He retreats to the couch to sit quietly next to Howard and Bernadette. Howard glances at Sheldon before giving me a weird look. After I set everything out, I look around the room; we're missing someone.

"Where's Amy?" I ask, frowning.

"Right here, Bestie," says Amy as she pushes the front door open. She catches sight of Sheldon sitting in his usual spot on the couch. "Hello, Dr. Cooper," she adds formally.

"Amy Farrah Fowler," Sheldon greets, dipping his head.

Everything suddenly feels uncomfortable. Raj gets up off the floor to whisper something in Howard's ear. Howard shrugs, his gaze shifting from Amy to Sheldon.

I clear my throat. "Amy?" She looks at me, her eyes dull. "A word in the kitchen?"

She tags behind me, adjusting the strap of her purse across her chest.

"Amy, what's going on? Why're you two being weird?"

"Sheldon and I terminated the Relationship Agreement today via text message. Fret not, Penny; the decision was quite mutual. We're trying to remain friends, and if not friends, then acquaintances."

"But _why?_" I ask.

"Penny, just because Sheldon and I have split up, it doesn't mean we will love you any less. Sheldon and I discussed having joint custody in regards to our friends. Also, I am allowed visitation rights." Her lips thin out, and she stares at me blankly.

"What went wrong?"

"I suppose we've just drifted apart. Although, I have the sneaking suspicion that there's another woman involved – this is just what my female intuition tells me."

I snort. "Another woman? Oh, please."

"He told me he was 'too busy' to maintain boyfriend status. As he has no large, ongoing projects and no social life outside of our group, I find his excuse hard to believe. Therefore, I am led to the conclusion that he has found someone else and is 'letting me down gently,' so to speak." She sighs. "I'm sure he's moved on to some tramp."

I glance past Amy. Sheldon's eating quietly, his eyes fixed on the contents of the plastic box in his hand; he ignores the conversation between Howard and Bernadette. There's no way he's found another girl – he would have mentioned it at some point during the week or so that I've lived with him. He doesn't have a car, and he hasn't been wearing his bus pants to visit anyone at unusual times. But then again, going out on dates isn't exactly Sheldon's style. Maybe he's been chatting up the tramp on the internet, if he's found a girl at all. That must be it.

I'm still staring at him, trying to interpret the deadpan indifference on his face, when his cold eyes flick up and meet mine. My face flushes, and I quickly turn back to Amy. "I'm sure you're wrong about there being another girl," I blabber, feeling warm. "But I'll find out."

xxxxx

_Sheldon_

After dinner, when everyone has dispersed, Penny remains in the living room. I feel her hovering behind me as I peruse the ever-entertaining Google upon my computer. I pause, mid-perusal, and ask, "Is there something you need?" Yes, my words are short and clipped, but that should serve her well. After all, if I'm such a _pain in the ass_, then my conversation obviously isn't coveted by given company.

"I need to talk to you about something," she says, scratching her head. "But it's a little awkward."

"No need to apologize, I understand," I say, returning my focus to the computer screen. I inhale a laugh, as Wikipedia always has such humorous things to say on the subject of String Theory.

"Apologize for what?" she asks, sounding distracted. Attention span of a gnat, I tell you. Every time.

I spin around in my desk chair to look at her. "For what you said to Bernadette."

She scrunches up her eyebrows and drops her lower lip. "Huh?"

"Dear Lord, Penny. How am I supposed to accept an apology when I have to remind you what you're apologizing for? You told Bernadette that I'm a quote unquote 'pain in the ass' to live with. Bernadette told Howard, and Howard told me. Let's imagine that you apologized. Apology accepted. Can we move on?"

She looks as if someone has struck her over the head with a particularly large shovel. "I didn't even know anyone told you that," she says. "And honestly, I didn't think it was a big deal." If she looked uncomfortable before, now her discomfort has multiplied tenfold. "I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings, sweetie. If it makes you feel any better, when I told Bernadette that, it was when you were moping around not talking to anyone. I don't think that now." She reaches out to scrub her fingers through my hair before pausing, her hand hovering half-way. She compromises by patting my shoulder instead.

"Wait, if you weren't coming to apologize, then what did you want to talk to me about?" I frown. "I haven't touched your feminine hygiene products. If they're missing, then your best bet is to interrogate Wolowitz."

_"What?" _

I shrug. "You said it was awkward."

She pinches the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. "No, Sheldon. This is about Amy."

"Yes, we did 'break up.' In my mind, this news is less disturbing than finding out my roommate is insulting me behind my back. But, by all means, please continue." I spin my chair away from her to continue reading Wikipedia articles.

"Okay, whatever. Anyhow, Amy thinks you broke up with her for another woman. I told her that was ridiculous, but I wanted to hear you say it too."

I feel the temperature of the room rising. _Damn it, Penny._ I've specifically told her not to adjust the thermostat. I jerk the collar of my shirt away from my neck to allow airflow to cool my skin. "Very well," I intone. "That idea is truly ridiculous."

"So there's no woman?"

"None at all," I say, turning to look at her. "After all, I'm too focused on you to be thinking of anyone else."

She blinks.

Holy hokum, it's hot in here. If I see that woman touch the thermostat one more time, I may be forced to cut off all of her fingers. "What I mean to say," I hasten to add, "it that living with you has been a substantial adjustment, as I'm sure it has been for you. I didn't mean that – well, you know – I just…" I seem to be spluttering, which rarely ever happens to me.

"Does it feel hot in here?" she asks me with genuine interest.

"Like Tatooine," I reply.

xxxxx

**A/N: I'll have y'all know that my roommates found out I'm writing this story, and they won't stop making fun of me for it. Screw them. Keep the reviews coming; I appreciate 'em.**


	8. The Phone Call Factor

_Sheldon_

Tuesday is barbecue bacon cheeseburger at The Cheesecake Factory night. As Wolowitz has decided to have a romantic evening with Bernadette, and Koothrappali has no desire to be alone with me, I am forced to attend The Cheesecake Factory by myself, a feat that requires me to utilize public transportation.

At the restaurant, Penny waits on me. "Where's everyone else?" she asks in a tone of semi-concern.

"Not here," I respond cleverly with a slight shake of my head. I appreciate the way she's decided to wear her hair tonight – down her back to display femininity, but also clipped to keep her hair from spilling into her face. I tell her so.

She shifts her weight onto her left foot and gives me a scrutinizing look. "Why are you complimenting me?"

"Penny, please, my only agenda is to give compliments when they are rightfully deserved." I try to give her my best convincing pained smile and head-tilt assemblage.

She's grinning at me in an off-putting sort of way. "Sheldon thinks I'm _pretttty_," she says in a sing-song voice.

"That's not what I said."

Penny raises her eyebrows. "Excuse me? What, so now I'm ugly?"

I _tsk_ at her. "Although I cannot deny your attractive and picturesque features, I was merely feeding you a flattering remark on your hair in order to provide reason for you _not _to expel your saliva on my burger."

She frowns and softly stamps her foot. "You said there was no agenda!"

"I lied." I stare at her. "Bazinga."

She puffs her lips at me. "And to think I wondered why you came alone tonight." She sighs. "My shift ends in ten minutes. I'll join you, if you want. That way, I can drive you home."

I am startled by her proposal. "Well, Penny," I say, pleased, "isn't this a pleasant revelation? You're more thoughtful than I previously imagined, both literally and figuratively. I welcome you to join me after you bring me my barbecue bacon cheeseburger with the barbecue, bacon, and cheese on the side. Don't forget my lemonade."

She gives me a tight smile and turns to leave. "I never do."

"Thank you, Penny. And if it pleases you, I really do think you look startlingly beautiful tonight."

She turns back. "Really?"

"Bazinga. You look the same as usual."

xxxxx

_Penny_

Sheldon's being more aggravating than usual. He's spouting off about some science thingy he's working on that I don't care about. I pretend to be listening, when I'm really staring off into space. My thoughts always seem to come back to Leonard. Weirdly enough, I don't miss him as much anymore. It went from pain over his absence to a dull ache to hardly anything at all. Sometimes, I think Sheldon misses him a lot more than I do and a lot more than Sheldon cares to admit.

I think Leonard being gone is a good opportunity for me to get over him and move on…I just wish there was someone I could move on _to._

My gaze falls on Sheldon. He's still talking animatedly about something or another. I hear the words "bosonic string" and "fermions" and "mallard duck," none of which make any sense to me. As annoying as he is, it's cute to see how his eyes light up when he's talking about something that interests him. Kind of like how my eyes light up when I see a pair of boots half-off at Dillard's.

That brings me to another thought. I wish Sheldon would let me dress him. I'm sure I could totally find dozens of outfits that would make him look more like a man and less like a tall, gangly child. After all, Sheldon's really not that unfortunate looking. He has nice eyes and smooth skin, despite his paleness. His hair is severely parted, but with a little mousse, I could make him look like a rock star.

I find myself staring at his mouth as he talks. He has a way of speaking without really showing his teeth, and his lips seem to pull to one side more than the other. His lips, to my embarrassment, look very soft.

" – isn't that fascinating?" he asks, his eyes dead-set on mine.

I clear my throat. "Yeah, sweetie. Fascinating. And, uh, since you've paid for and finished your burger and everything, can we go now?"

"Certainly, Penny," he says, dabbing his mouth with his napkin and standing up.

On the car ride home, my phone rings. To Sheldon's horror, I answer it while driving; it's Leonard. "Leonard!" I exclaim. "Hi! What's going on? It's been a couple of days."

"Yeahhh," says Leonard on the other line. "Sorry about that. My mother's very demanding when she's ill. Though, to give her credit, she's not as bad as Sheldon. How's he doing, by the way?"

"Well, currently, he's bugging me about talking on the phone and driving at the same time. He says I have to pay for his hospital bill when we crash. Other than that, he's okay. We just had dinner together at The Cheesecake Factory." I glance over at Sheldon.

"Eyes on the road!" Sheldon hisses.

"Together? Alone together?" Leonard asks, laughing uncertainly.

"Yeah. It was a date."

"It was not!" Sheldon tries to wrestle my phone away. He wins and says into it, "Leonard, why have you been avoiding my calls? I've left you countless voicemails detailing the horrors I've been subject to due to Penny's new living arrangements. She bought the wrong _milk_. Are you listening to me, Leonard? The wrong _milk_. There will be repercussions, Leonard, or so help me, I'll – " Sheldon falls silent and listens to whatever Leonard is saying to him. Sheldon scowls and turns to me, holding the phone up to my ear so I can have both hands on the wheel. "He wants to talk to you again."

"I'm back," I tell Leonard.

"I'm so sorry I left. Living with Sheldon must be hell for you."

I give Sheldon a sideways look before I reply, "It really isn't that bad. He complains a lot, but he's been real sweet." I'm suddenly very conscious of Sheldon's fingers resting against my cheek as he holds the phone to my ear.

"Sweet?" Leonard repeats. _"Sweet? _God, what has he done to you, Penny?" He laughs. "In any case, I think I'll only be here for two more months. My brother folded and said he'd take off from teaching for the summer to be with her. Makes sense since Massachusetts is a hell of a lot closer to New Jersey than California."

"Two months? But Barry Kripke's already moved into my old apartment. Where am I going to live?" I can feel Sheldon's fingers twitch against my cheek as I say this.

"We'll figure something out. Until then, have fun with Sheldon. I have to go now – a nurse is getting mad at me for using a phone in the hospital. I'll talk to you when I can."

"Alright, Leonard. Sheldon misses you. Bye!" I push the phone away from my ear so Sheldon can end the call.

For some reason, there's an uncomfortable silence in the car. Sheldon's looking out the window and ignoring me. I try to make conversation. "Sucks about Leonard coming home earlier than we thought, huh? Now we don't have much time to become BFFs."

Sheldon makes a noncommittal noise in his throat.

"I meant what I said about you being a sweet guy to live with," I go on. "Plus, your jibber jabbering is soothing."

"Mmmm." He still doesn't look at me.

"Sheldon, what's wrong?"

Finally, he faces me. His eyes, startlingly blue in the headlights of passing cars, appear hesitant. "Nothing's wrong, per se. I was just becoming acquainted with the idea of you living with me long-term; that's all. I'm trying to work out how I'm going to adjust to Leonard's return."

I smile. "Is that your Dr. Whackadoodle way of telling me that you're going to miss me?"

He pauses to think about this for several seconds. "Yes," he finally says.

I say nothing to this, but I can't seem to stop grinning for the rest of the ride home.

xxxxx

**A/N: Aww. Hey, I know I might be spitting these chapters out pretty quickly – it's just that it's only the first week of school, so I don't have much to do yet. But let me know if I'm going too fast. Review. **


	9. The Sweaty Eight Layers Effect

_Sheldon_

My first order of business is to rid Penny's old apartment of Kripke. If Leonard is to come home in two months, Penny will need a place to reside, and it will bother me greatly if that place is not across the hall. The most elaborate plan I've come up with involves the disposal of Kripke's body in the Pacific. However, I'm disinclined to commit a felony for Penny's sake alone. Hopefully, it will not come to that.

A more passive-aggressive plan that I've put into action entails several layers of clothing, for I seek to make myself look more muscular and, hence, I'll become a more intimidating adversary. I've taken to wearing eight shirts whenever I leave the apartment in the event that Kripke is out in the hallway. So far, he's only once seen me dressed this way – an occurrence in which he attacked me with discourteous comments about my weight, to which I responded with an offensive remark about his mother.

Penny is unaware of my ongoing project, as I do not seek her praise. Additionally, I fear that sharing my secret sentimental nature with her is grounds for her to fall in love with me. Whenever she sees me wearing several shirts, I tell her I'm suffering from shockingly low body temperature. However, I have the suspicion that she doesn't believe me due to the obvious early onset of outdoor summer heat as well as my inability to lie convincingly.

"Sheldon, you look ridiculous," she tells me as I emerge from my bedroom Saturday morning wearing eight shirts. My dinosaur shirt is on top.

"This weather is positively frigid. If you wish for me to catch cold and die, by all means, keep the insults coming." I turn my face away so she can't see my involuntary twitching.

"We're going the park, and it's going to get up to eighty degrees today. You're gonna sweat your little hiney off." She places her hands on her hips – a berating gesture. "Take them off. It bothers me enough that you wear long-sleeved shirts under t-shirts every stupid day."

"Excuse me, but you don't see me telling you to take _your_ clothes off," I retort without thinking. Suddenly, I am frozen by that mental image.

She notices my rigidness and smirks. "C'mon. Let's get this over with."

When we return after having shot off home-made titanium rockets at the park with Wolowitz and Koothrappali, I find myself drenched in my own perspiration; my eight shirts seem to seal in the heat like the PEfilm of a greenhouse roof. We climb the stairs to the fourth floor to find Kripke at his door with a bag of groceries. He looks over his shoulder at us as he sticks his key in the lock. "Hewwo, Woxanne," he says to Penny. "You wook nice today." His gaze drops from her face to her bust.

I step in front of Penny, blocking her from view. I puff out my sweaty chest in display of my male dominance. Dear Lord, he'd better not hit me.

Kripke, to my surprise, bursts out in raucous laughter. "I don't know what you'we twying to do hewe, buddy…But good wuck." He gestures at Penny. "Sewiouswy, good _wuck_." He laughs all the way into his apartment, leaving Penny and I alone in the hallway.

"What do you suppose he meant by that?" I ask, confused.

Penny responds with a series of tittering laughs that seem to escape from her nose. "Don't worry about it, sweetie." She shoulders her way through our door and into the living room.

"No, tell me," I demand, wiping the sweat from my forehead with my sleeve.

"He thinks…" She clears her throat and winces a little. "He thinks you want to get with me or something."

"Oh, I see," I say, pondering this information. She watches me closely as if she expects me to say something in addition, so I voice my future plans for the next few minutes. "I think I'll take a shower."

Her face falls in what I can only assume is disappointment. She shrugs and turns away, discarding the remnants of my rocket into the garbage can.

xxxxx

_Penny_

Sheldon is completely anal when it comes to his hygiene. When I first met him, I assumed he spent so long in the shower because he was jacking off or something. Not the case. That bitch is in there decontaminating himself with ten different kinds of soap – I know because we share a bathroom. I'm sure if it was up to him, he'd bathe himself in hand sanitizer.

While he showers, I look around the living room for the TV remote. Sheldon always hides it from me in creative places because he hates it when I watch Jersey Shore. Once, I found the remote in the fridge wedged behind a jar of pickles. I'm still looking for the stupid thing when I hear the shower turn off.

"Sheldon?" I call, crouching down to look under the couch. I hear him step out of the bathroom and walk to his bedroom. "Sheldon, where's the remote?"

He doesn't respond.

"Dammit, Sheldon," I say, getting up and stomping towards his bedroom, pushing open his door. "Where's the stupid rem– "

Sheldon's sitting shirtless on his bed, a towel wrapped around his waist. His hair is wet, dark, and disheveled. Small drops of water trickle from his collar bone down across the flat plane of his chest. In the dim light of his bedroom, his eyes are shadowy and inscrutable.

He makes no move to get up. "What is it, Penny?" he asks calmly.

"I, uh…Sorry – I just wanted to know where the TV r-remote is," I say, faltering.

"It's in the microwave," he replies with indifferent evenness.

"Yeah, uh, thanks," I say, retreating from his room as fast as possible.

"Oh, and Penny?"

I turn back to meet his unblinking blue blaze. He cocks his head at me; I can't tell if he's on the verge of laughter or not. "Next time," he says, his mouth quirking up on one side, "_do _try to knock first."

xxxxx

**A/N: Ha, so that basically had nothing to do with the plot of this story. I just wanted to get Sheldon naked. Don't worry, though. I promise I won't turn this into porn. Anyway, this is a short chapter, but I decided to post again today just because I heard one of my roommates playing "Penny and Me" by Hanson. Even though it reminds me of the fifth grade, it got me in the mood to write some more. Okay, enough of that. Now you can review. **


	10. The Playground Bully Experiment

_Sheldon_

"Okay. Barry Kripke, Leslie Winkle, and Wil Wheaton. Sheldon, _go_." Wolowitz leans forward across the table with a demeanor of expectancy.

"Go where?" I question in a perfect execution of sarcasm. For today's lunch period, Wolowitz, Koothrappali, and I have taken to playing the ever-classic MFK game, which, to my understanding, is an acronym for "Marry, Fuck, Kill." I, myself, am not a MFK enthusiast, as the game does not seem to properly exercise my 187-point intelligence. However, without Leonard, I find maintaining conversations with these two idiots to be both taxing and a waste of my time. The games we play at lunch only aid in filling awkward silences.

"C'mon, Sheldon," Koothrappali begs in such a way that only barely convinces me to join. "Please play?"

"Oh, alright," I snap. "However, I propose that we alter the MFK to MCK, in which the C stands for coitus. All of those opposed may now raise their hands." I don't allow enough time to pass for them to think about it. "Excellent. Motion passed in favor of Dr. Sheldon Cooper." I pause to think. "Question."

Wolowitz rolls his eyes. "This isn't supposed to be hard. But sure, what is it?"

"I was given to believe that this game, when played in a circle of heterosexual males, should include a list of _female_ names. The only female name you've provided is Leslie Winkle's and, quite frankly, her gender is questionable at best." I cross my arms. "Besides, we all know I would kill her. Therein lies the dilemma."

"_Fine_, Sheldon. New list. Uh…Leslie, Amy, and…" Wolowitz appears to be deep in thought. Remarkable. "Penny," he finally adds.

I feel a jolt of surprise, which, additionally, is remarkable; Wolowitz rarely ever manages to take "the wind from my sails," as they say. "Well, let's see," I say, recovering. "I would kill Leslie Winkle – really, I can't see why you'd think that would change. First, I would strangle her with that robot arm you so _cleverly_ invented – " The "cleverly" part was my own private bazinga. " – and then I would – "

"Sheldon," Wolowitz interrupts. There seems to be a throbbing vein protruding from his forehead – he should probably consult with a medical practitioner about it. "You don't need to tell us _how_ you'd kill her or why; you just need to tell us that you'd kill her." When he's frustrated with me, he speaks rapidly and produces more saliva than is deemed normal. Duly noted.

"Alright," I say, readjusting myself in my chair. "I suppose I ought to start over, then. I would kill Leslie Winkle and have coitus with Amy Farrah Fowler..."

"You'd marry _Penny?_" Koothrappali demands. "I would so bang her over the other two. Almost did, you know."

I frown, irritated. "Well, Rajesh, that's the beauty of matrimony. You have the option to 'bang' your partner as often as you'd like." I instantly realize my blunder.

_"You want to bang Penny repeatedly?" _Koothrappali says this with such glee that, quite frankly, it's nauseating.

"That's not what I said," I tell him, succeeding in remaining calm. "I said you have _the option_. I, myself, would be content in a brief, sexless marriage with Penny."

"Whatever, dude," says Koothrappali, unconvinced. "You so want to bang her." He turns to Wolowitz. "Okay, do me."

"Priya, Bernadette, and Penny."

"Bang Bernadette, no contest," the Indian says in a reply so quick it appears suspicious.

_"You would have sex with my fiancée?"_

"What? _Dude! _She's hot. A Shiksa goddess."

This is point where I begin to tune out their frivolous banter because, and let's just be completely honest, I don't care. Instead, I imagine what it would be like to be married to Penny. She'd have to be subservient to my needs or else nothing in the relationship would work. Additionally, it would serve our future inter-marital discourse well if she undergoes one of those operations like Charlie Gordon does in Daniel Keyes' _Flowers for Algernon_. Although, I suppose I'd be satisfied with Penny not saying anything at all throughout the marriage, though that might just be a pipe dream (assuming that I've taken up an addiction to opium, which is as likely an event as marrying Penny is). Despite her lack of knowledge in, well, anything remotely relevant, a marriage with Penny wouldn't be _so_ dreadful. Case in point: _A. _We live together already. _B._ I'd use the threat of divorce to compel her to do my bidding.

Regardless, I fear for our imaginary offspring.

xxxxx

_Penny_

"Hey, Penny, Sheldon told me he wants to marry you so he can have sex with you whenever he wants," Howard says casually at dinner.

Sheldon chokes on his pizza – it's Thursday – and roughly dabs at his mouth with a napkin. "I object," he shouts, turning to me. "Penny, I _never _said that."

Raj, after taking a large gulp of his beer, says, "Yeah, you kinda did."

I glance at Sheldon. He's bouncing up and down on the couch like he really needs to pee, and his face is all kinds of twitchy. "Jeez, Sheldon," I say, "they're just messing with you. You getting all upset about it makes me think it's true."

He stands up, his chin jutting out. "It's not." He doesn't say anything else as he makes a speedy retreat to his room. His door slams.

"Holy crap, what crawled up his butt?" I ask, gnawing on some pizza crust. "Sheldon can be such a diva."

"Yeahhh," says Howard slowly. "He's been acting weird lately. I mean, weirder than usual. I thought you two got in a fight or something because it seems like every time I mention you, he gets as feisty as my mother with me." He polishes his batman belt buckle with his sleeve.

"Ew," I say, making a face. Howard's greasy way of talking makes everything sound dirty. But he does have a point. Sheldon's been such a girl lately – he's either super polite to me, or he's having a fit over the tiniest things that don't normally upset him. The other morning, for example, he had a temper tantrum because he didn't like my PJs. He said they had birds on them and that he doesn't like birds. So I reminded him of the Blue Jay he befriended to make the point that he likes _some_ birds. He told me that the birds on my night clothes weren't Blue Jays, they were Western Bluebirds, and he doesn't like Western Bluebirds. He said I could either change into less offensive PJs, or I could move out.

"I think he likes you," says Raj with a cheesy grin. He rummages through the fridge for more beer.

I blink. That's the most retarded idea I've ever heard. There's a better chance of _me_ liking Sheldon. Actually, scratch that, there's a pretty _good_ chance of me liking him than the other way around. Something else must be bothering him. Maybe this whole Leonard thing is more than just a mild pain in the booty to him. Maybe I should talk to Sheldon. Yeah, I should talk to Sheldon.

"Get out."

"What?" Howard and Raj ask together.

"Go. Leave," I say. They stare at me._ "Depart?" _

Howard and Raj slowly get off the couch and move towards the door. The last thing I hear before the door closes behind them is Raj muttering, "I miss Leonard."

I knock softly on Sheldon's door. "Sweetie?"

"I'm asleep," he says, his voice muffled.

"No you're not." I roll my eyes.

"On occasion, I have one-sided conversations during my REM cycle."

"This isn't one-sided."

There's a pause. Then – "I love you, Meemaw."

"You're not asleep, Sheldon."

"What was that, Meemaw? Oh, yes. I agree. Penny's a wretched female."

"What?" I ask, pretending not to have heard him.

He speaks louder. "Penny's a wretched female!"

"Huh?"

"_Penny's a wretched fe – _oh, good Lord. Penny, just open the door."

I slip into his bedroom. He's balled up and facing the wall with his knees tucked beneath his chin. I sit down on the edge of his bed and squeeze one of his Superman-sock-clad feet comfortingly.

He lifts his head. "Please don't do that."

I stop. "Sorry." I try to think of something to say.

"Penny, you know I don't like people in my room. Might I suggest you speed this up?"

"I just…Is there anything you want to tell me?" I lace my fingers together in my lap and stare at the floor. I can tell Sheldon vacuumed recently because there are lines in the carpet, all of which follow the same direction. What a Whackadoodle.

"Nothing comes to mind. Well, besides the fact that you somehow managed to get the toppings wrong for my pizza. Again."

I tell Sheldon Raj's hypothesis – wow, look at me using big words – for the reason why he's been acting weird. I expect one of Sheldon's irritating laughs; instead, he remains perfectly still. In the painful silence that follows, I try to think of anything and everything at once. Unfortunately, the chief image in my head is of Sheldon half-naked with a towel around his waist.

"Hmm," he says. "I'm not quite sure how to process that."

You and me both.

He rolls over to face me, still curled in a ball. "On what grounds does he base his supposition?"

I shrug. "I guess it's like playground bullying. Like when a boy is mean to a girl, it really means he likes her."

Sheldon snorts. "By that paradigm, I would be deeply in love with Leslie Winkle, which – you know – I'm not."

"So, Raj is wrong?"

I'm both alarmed and comforted by the amount of time he takes to think about this. Finally, he sits up and dangles his legs off of the bed. He shrugs. "As much as I enjoy disproving people's well thought-out theories, who am I to say? After all, my understanding of the vast range of human emotions is satisfactory at best. Although it seems unlikely that my fondness for you is the source of my erratic behavior, I am open to testing the idea."

Was I really hearing this? "Test it how?"

"Well, Penny," he says, his voice dripping with condescension, "as intelligent as I am, I still should be allotted a designated period of time to plan such an experiment. Though if you must know – and we might need Amy Farrah Fowler's knowledge of the human brain to aid us – one idea is that we take a look at my electrical response to you."

"Or," I say, closing in the space between us. We're so close that I can count each of his eyelashes. He smells like soap and baby powder and _clean_.

"Or what?" he asks faintly.

I'm not sure what possesses me to do this, but I crawl up to him and kiss him. Slowly, at first – I don't want to scare him off. His mouth is rigid against mine. In fact, he doesn't seem to be kissing back – or moving, for that matter – at all. Just when I think I've killed him, I pull away.

Sheldon's eyes are closed, and his mouth is a flushed line across his face. It seems to take him a moment to realize I've stopped. Finally, he opens his eyes, tilts his head to the side, and scrutinizes me. "Your method of experimentation constitutes as scientific malpractice; your results could never be published."

I stare at him. "Romantic."

He clears his throat. "You didn't let me finish. Despite your procedure being unorthodox, it was, ultimately, effective." He points to the hallway before I can reply. "Now that you've collected your findings, I trust that you know your way out."

Annoyed, I make for the door.

He stops me. "Oh, and goodnight, Penny."

xxxxx

**A/N: My dirty bitch ass honey badger roommate – aka username beckett77 – managed to find me on here, so I've taken longer than usual to post this chapter just out of spite. But, for my revenge, I'm going to embarrass her and invite y'all to read her stories; she's far more proficient in writing than I am. **_**Psst.**_** Review. **


	11. The Girlfriend Agreement

_Penny_

Friday morning, I get up to drive Sheldon to the university. I stumble out of my room in my butterfly PJs, since Sheldon doesn't seem to have a problem with _those_, and make my way to the kitchen. Sheldon hears me before I even catch sight of him.

"Good morning," he greets as I round the corner. He's already up, fed, and dressed. He says nothing more to me as he bustles around the kitchen, cleaning up and putting dishes away.

"Good morning? That's it?"

Sheldon stops what he's doing and turns around to face me. He frowns. "Good morning…Penny?"

"You really have nothing else to say to me?" I cross my arms expectantly.

He presses his lips into a thin line. I can tell his brain's struggling to work out an answer to my question. Then, his lips form a small "o." "Ah, yes. Thank you in advance for driving me to work today." He looks smug with himself – a look he gets when he thinks he's right.

I make a buzzing sound with my mouth. "_Annnk. _Try again."

He shakes his head. "I'm sorry, Penny, but have I failed in carrying out some sort of social obligation I'm unaware of?" He doesn't look very concerned if he has. "Was I supposed to _call_ you after you so blatantly violated me last night? I've only ever heard of the twenty-four-hour rule and the three-day rule, neither of which seem to apply here because, _A,_ it's been less than ten hours, and _B_, you're my roommate; calling would be unnecessary."

Sheldon can be such a dick.

"You're such a dick."

He still looks smug. "Oh, Penny, your vulgarity never ceases to be endearing."

I have half a mind to go back to bed and let him walk his sorry ass to work, when he picks a manila filing folder up off the counter. He holds it out to me. Distracted, I take it and flip it open. "What's this?"

He turns his back to me to finish drying a dish with a flower print dish towel. "I've drafted our Relationship Agreement."

He's serious. Across the top of the document reads the following: "The Relationship Agreement." The heading is followed by a paragraph that explains the binding nature of the contract; once the paper's signed, the only way to end the relationship is _mutual termination or the death(s) of one or both participants. _I skip down a couple paragraphs. There are clauses about displays of affection, both public and private. There are rules about which pet names I'm allowed to call him as well the situations in which I can use those pet names; never, under any circumstance, am I permitted to call him "Moon Pie," (but titles that allude to _other_ pastries are fine).

"Swiss Roll?" I ask, looking up from the agreement.

"Oh, good," says Sheldon. "I'm glad you've decided to go with that one. As much as I love Oatmeal Creme Pies, being called anything in relation to oatmeal just seems degrading."

"No, that's not what I was…Never mind. Why don't you sit down for a second?" I point to the couch.

He starts to move in that direction, but then he stops and says, "As I am to be the boyfriend, it is my understanding – and this is based upon the exhausting relationship I maintained with Amy Farrah Fowler – that I am to be a gentleman. So, please, _after you_." He gestures to the arm chair and gives me a smile that is supposed to be charming, I think, but ends up being just plain creepy.

I sit down and clear my throat. "Okay, Sheldon. Don't you think we should talk about this first?" I hold up the document.

"Well, sure, Penny. Which part don't you understand?" In an afterthought, he adds, "Drat. I knew I should have included illustrations."

"No, _no_, Sheldon! I get what you wrote – trust me, you've made it a little too clear. Just…Don't you think this is moving too fast? I mean, c'mon…What's everyone going to say?"

"Good Lord, Penny. You're acting as if I care."

"What about Leonard?" I ask impatiently.

He pretends to glance around the apartment. "Oh, _look_, Penny – Leonard's not here."

"He's your friend. He's my friend too. You know this would kill him."

"Well, it appears as if _someone _is suffering from a bout of egocentrism." He pauses. "In case you're unable to tell, that 'someone' is you. Really, Penny, you shouldn't flatter yourself – you're quite replaceable."

"Wow, that just convinced me." I shove the papers back into his hands. "I'm not signing some stupid agreement to be your girlfriend. This is ridiculous. I don't even know if I like you yet."

Sheldon frowns. "You crumpled my document."

Oh. My. God. I'm going to kill him. I wonder if there's anything in the contract about _that. _I make a big show of stomping into the kitchen. I expect him to follow me and apologize, but let's face it; this is Sheldon we're talking about. Instead, he raises his voice from his spot on the couch.

"I'll let you think on it. In the meantime, I'll display the Relationship Agreement on the refrigerator door. That way, you can see it every time you go in there to steal my milk." He crosses one leg over the other. "Oh, and just so you know, the permission to drink my milk without any repercussions _what_soever is just one of the many, _many _perks of signing the agreement." He pauses. "You're welcome."

All I wanted was for him to say something sweet to me when I woke up. What I don't want is to sell my soul with some legal binding crap. I swear to God, I take back everything I _ever_ said about Leonard moving too fast.

"I'm not signing it," I snap at him. "And you definitely aren't putting that on the fridge. What if Howard or Raj saw it? They'd tell Leonard, and we'd be done for."

"Shouldn't you be more concerned about _me_ being the one to tell Leonard? After all, it's common knowledge that I'm the one with the inability to keep a secret." An awkward silence follows this. He frowns after seeing the look on my face. "I sense I've said something to disturb you."

"You _can't _tell Leonard." I return to the living room, shifting from bitch mode to pathetic pleading Penny mode. "Please, Sheldon."

"What's to tell? You haven't signed yet." He pulls a pen out of nowhere and wiggles it at me.

"Why can't you just be normal and ask me out on a date?" I complain. "It's really not that hard. Like, 'Hey. Instead of having Chinese food and vintage game night, why don't we go out for dinner?'"

"I appreciate the invitation, but no."

"That's what you're supposed to ask _me. _Look, if you take me out to do something nice, I'll _consider _signing your stupid Girlfriend Agreement thingy."

He clicks his tongue at me. "_Relationship _Agreement. Really, Penny, it's a wonder how you even managed to get into a community college – your comprehension skills are positively loathsome." He shifts in his seat. "However, I accept your bargain. Additionally, I have something to ask you."

I wonder where he's going to take me. A classy, upscale restaurant where the waiters wear white button-downs and silk vests? I smile at him, picturing him in his suit and tie and offering out an arm to me escort me down the stairs. "Yes, Sheldon?"

He tilts his head to the side. "Do you plan to change out of your pajamas, or are you ready to drive me to work?"

Oh, Sheldon.

xxxxx

**A/N: Who else watched tonight's new episode? **


	12. The Impaired Cerebral Function

_Sheldon_

_Research Journal: Volume VI, Entry I_

My doom grows near. I seem to be suffering from a variety of symptoms of a disease that has yet to be determined. Those symptoms include nausea, inarticulate vocalization, increased perspiration, arrhythmia, insomnia, and – at times – impaired cerebral function. Additionally, I've taken to lengthy sighing at inappropriate times. As it is apparent that I will most likely die within a twenty-four-hour period, I feel the need to express my closing thoughts in this research journal. Hopefully, when my findings are published, mankind will be able to find a cure.

If, however, the autopsy of my corpse reveals foul play, I only have one thing to say: it was Penny.

Perhaps I should start from the beginning. As Friday is Chinese food and vintage game night, I obviously couldn't go on a date with Penny. However, to appease her, I offered up my Saturday for a day of romance at Pasadena Memorial Park. By "romance," of course, I mean that it was up to Penny to bring a blanket and a cooler of luncheon foods for the picnic I proposed that we have. She was remarkably disagreeable when I listed my sandwich topping preferences. Really, something_ must _be done about her attitude. To get back on track, however, the following is an accurate account of the events of the picnic:

"It's such a beautiful day," Penny proclaims as she spreads out a flowery patchwork quilt on the grass. I center myself in the middle of the quilt – my plan is to be able to see the ants invading from afar so that I have the time to run.

"I've seen better," I tell her flatly. In my mind, physically going on a date seems pointless. We live together; I see her every waking moment. Why waste time eating in a park when we could be eating in front of the television and watching a _Stargate _marathon?

"Can't you pretend like you're enjoying this?" she asks as she unloads the cooler. She hands me a sandwich; its integrity is preserved by a Ziploc bag.

I take a bite of my sandwich and plan what I'm going to do when I return to the apartment.

"Oh, sweetie, you have a little mayonnaise on your face." Penny leans forward, her golden hair caught in the high early summer breeze; it tickles my cheek. She squints her light green cat eyes at me as she swipes a thumb across my lower lip. Like an animal, she licks the mayonnaise off her thumb.

I resist the urge to vomit. _1. Nausea._ "You…You f-fed me mayonnaise? On a hot day?" _2. Inarticulate vocalization. _I gulp. _Oh, what fresh hell is this?_

"You never told me you didn't like mayonnaise." She's licking her fingers again.

I stare at her. The heat is starting to get to me. _3. Increased perspiration. _"P-Penny. It's not the mayonnaise itself that I object to…It's the opportunity for the breeding of bacteria on my sandwich that I have a problem with." The sandwich is a death trap. I hold in my hands the power to destroy the universe – and if not the universe, then the power to induce a belly-ache.

This is why I shouldn't date; everything always ends with an obsessive woman killing her intelligent yet overly trusting lover. I look at her, her eyes alight and decidedly mischievous, and I am suddenly overcome with an irregular heartbeat. I clutch a hand to my chest, feeling a _thump-thuh-thump _beneath my fingers as opposed to the normal _thump-thump-thump. 4. Arrhythmia. _Everything becomes painfully clear. She's poisoned me.

"I need to go home," I tell her faintly. She adopts a concerned expression as if I can't see straight through it. She crawls towards me across the quilt to place her cool fingers against my forehead. My heart seems to balk at her proximity. "No," I murmur, recoiling from her touch. "You're making it worse." I can almost feel the bacteria entering my blood stream. I make her take me home.

Later, as I lay in bed, I muse over my symptoms. It's all I can seem to think about. I find it strange that I have yet to experience stomach pains – perhaps food poisoning won't be the cause of my early demise. Perhaps I've contracted a rare fatal disease from Penny – my symptoms must be related to the increase in time we've spent together. _Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps…_I begin to type this journal entry as I can't seem to enter the realm of slumber. Lord, why can't I sleep? _5. Insomnia_.

_End of Entry I._

_Research Journal: Volume VI, Entry II_

Dear readers, I fear this may be my last entry. My symptoms have intensified. What's more disturbing is that Penny still refuses to sign the Relationship Agreement even as I am on my deathbed. Granted, our date didn't go as planned – this is partially my fault for screaming at her to get me home as fast as possible while also scolding her for failing to abide by the rules and regulations of the road. In all fairness, if not for her, I wouldn't be dying.

I think about all the people I'll need to call before I die. Mommy and Meemaw, for example. I don't know how I'll break the news to them – they'll probably weep and advise me to stay away from bright lights. Additionally, my mother will beg me to embrace my supposed repressed faith in Jesus, for only He can save me. Oh, and Leonard. I'll have to call him and confess my betrayal.

I begin with my mother.

"Shelly, quit bein' ridiculous. My bet's that it's a head cold."

I list my symptoms to reiterate my grave dilemma. "Penny only appears to be a carrier for the disease. She, as of now, feels fine."

My mother laughs on the other end of the phone. "If you're experiencin' all that, well…If I didn't know any better…"

"What?" I question, frantic. "If you didn't know any better _what?_"

"Baby, I don't know what to tell ya. It sounds like you've got yourself a crush."

"Mom," I scoff, "my feelings for Penny have nothing to do with my imminent death."

"But you _do _have feelin's?"

I ponder this. I suppose my request for Penny to be my girlfriend is evidence of having some kind of feelings for her. This scenario is a lot like the psychological paradigm in which behavior often influences emotion. For example, I realize my affection for Penny because I've drafted a document proclaiming as such, rather than presenting her with the document _because _of my feelings for her. Fascinating.

Penny knocks on my door and I nearly drop the phone. "I have to go, Mom," I mutter before hanging up.

"How're you feeling?" Penny asks me from her position at my bedroom door.

"Just wretched." I squirm beneath my covers.

She comes into my room and sits down next to me. "Want me to sing you 'Soft Kitty?'"

Humorous. Like she even needs to ask.

_"Soft kitty, warm kitty…"_

Was what my mother said true?

_"Little ball of fur…"_

My gaze slides to Penny and the soft, yellow curtain of her hair that hangs above me. Her mouth is full and ripe as she sings – however poorly – the last song I may ever hear. There are lines about her mouth that indicate amusement, though I remain at a loss as to how my situation is even remotely funny.

_"Happy kitty, sleepy kitty…"_

At this point, I find myself subject to molestation as she strokes my hair.

_"Purr, purr, purr." _

I momentarily forget my ailments. My mother must be right; I have a fondness for Penny. This realization ultimately leads us to: _6. Impaired cerebral function._

_End of Entry II. _

xxxxx

**A/N: Give me an ego boost. Leave a review. **


	13. The Gravitational Scenario

_Sheldon_

Alas, it's another night of callous morons and cold mi krop. Wolowitz is deep in a ludicrous conversation with a drunken Koothrappali, both insensitive to the fact that I could care less about the tenets of the religious belief Foundationism from the still-stupid space opera _Babylon 5. _I can't even seem to find solace in my food, as Penny was tardy in fulfilling her hot delivery obligations. A traffic jam is no excuse for wintry provisions.

To make matters worse, Bernadette and Amy Farrah Fowler are here. Currently, all of the womenfolk cluster together in the kitchen and talk in low murmurs. Once again, I find myself excluded from certain divisions of our social group simply because _A_, I am not an idiot, and _B, _I am not female. Oh, the woes of being Sheldon Cooper. Times like these make me more inclined to crave Leonard's presence.

_Leonard. _The name itself causes my stomach to squirm in a most unbecoming manner. Until only recently, I thought these reactions were due to my discomfort at Leonard's absence. Now, however, I am given to understand that my digestive distress is in direct correlation with something that lesser beings more often experience than I: guilt. As much as I "miss" Leonard, I shrink from the idea of his return, for I know I will be unable to keep my secret amorous warmth towards Penny from him. Perhaps Penny was right in refusing to sign my contract. I inwardly grunt to display my frustration at these strenuous human emotions.

"You alright there, Sheldon?"

I glance up from the ice pit that is my Thai food to see Penny peering at me with one eyebrow aloft. Apparently, my inward grunt was more outward in nature. Everyone is staring at me.

"I apologize for my animalistic behavior," I say finally. They all stare at me for a few seconds longer before returning to their conversations.

I sigh in what appears to be relief, as I have no intention in discussing my internal turmoil. My gaze always seems to seek out Penny when my thoughts run astray. She stands with one hand on the counter and the other curled around the stem of a wine glass. Her mouth is curved into a smile as she talks with animation about something or the other. I strain my ears to listen. "…they were on sale, so I bought four pairs in different colors. Can you believe that?"

I am bored already. I find my fondness for Penny fascinating simply because I fail to relate to her on any discernible level. I don't care about the sales she stumbles upon at the mall, nor do I care about anything else she has to say. Yet, I am drawn to her. The situation reminds me of Pluto's relationship to the sun. Pluto, which I maintain is still a planet, is gravitationally inclined to orbit our native star despite the distance and overall incompatibility the two bodies share. What does Pluto have in common with the sun? Nothing. They are polar opposites in terms of size, temperature, and structure. The sun has a forcefully attracting personality. Pluto prefers solitude. They share no hobbies. For example, where Pluto takes pleasure in model trains, monkeys, 3D chess, and comic books, the hydrogen and helium headed sun prefers spending money on alcohol and frivolous merchandise. As I am unsure as to whether or not I've made myself perfectly clear, I am Pluto, and Penny is the sun. I'm glad we've established this.

Penny, my sphere of hot plasma, laughs loudly and breaks my concentration. She touches Amy Farrah Fowler's shoulder – a gesture of camaraderie. Penny does not seem to be experiencing guilt with Amy Farrah Fowler in a way akin to that of my situation with Leonard. Despite Penny's indisputable brainlessness, I find myself curious to know what she's thinking.

xxxxx

_Penny_

Get me out of here. Why would I think inviting Amy was a good idea? She sees right through me. I'm trying to use wine and obnoxious laughter to hide my anxiousness. I tell myself that Amy wouldn't mind – she was always complaining about Sheldon anyway. But as soon as I feel Sheldon's eyes on me, I want to disappear. I force myself not to look at him too much because every time I do, I'm assaulted by a memory of soft lips and an overpowering smell of cleanness.

"Has Sheldon said anything about me?" Amy asks.

My mouth runs dry. Am I hearing his name just because I've been thinking about him, or is Amy really asking me about him? I decide to go with my safest reply. "Huh?"

"Sheldon. Has he said anything about me since, you know, we terminated our relationship?"

"Uh, n-no," I splutter. I get my cool back. "Not that I know of, anyway." I glance at Sheldon; he's watching me a calm look of indifference. I blink a little too much before turning my attention back to Amy.

"Are you over him?" Bernadette asks Amy.

"I'd like to think so," Amy replies in monotone. She lowers her voice. "However, there are some things I miss about him."

"Like what?" Bernadette leans in for some juiciness.

"For one," says Amy, "his tight butt."

I choke on a gulp of wine. "His wh-what?" Out of the corner of my eye, Sheldon cocks his head to the side.

"Remarkable, I know. As Sheldon refuses all forms of physical exercise, his glutes are surprisingly in-shape."

I want to die. Right now, if possible. I know Sheldon's listening in with his supernatural hearing; he's probably interested in my thoughts on his ass as well. I pick my words carefully. "Sheldon's butt aside, how would you feel if you found out that he _has_ moved on to someone else?"

Amy frowns. "To defend my honor, I would be forced to initiate a duel with this other woman." Her eyebrows knit together. "Why? What do you know?"

I know not to tell her the truth, that's for sure. "Nothing. It was a hypothetical question." I see Raj get up from the couch to go to the bathroom. Howard, apparently not wanting to be alone with Sheldon, also gets up. He joins us in the kitchen. "Excuse me," I tell Amy and Bernadette. I take Raj's spot and sit down next to Sheldon. "Did you hear all of that?" I whisper.

He shifts in his seat. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes you do, you nutcase. What are we gonna do? Amy and Leonard will _kill_ us." I bury my face in my hands.

"Fear not, Penny. Take comfort in the notion that when Leonard and Amy Farrah Fowler do, in fact, slaughter us, we will no longer be subject to the guilt of our betrayal."

"_Your_ betrayal," I hiss. "This is _your _fault."

Sheldon scoffs. "In what universe is this my fault? You with your soft hair and female witchery…If I didn't know any better, I'd accuse you of drugging me with the scientific equivalency of a love potion. And yes, I'm still feeling ill. Thanks for asking." His tone is bitter.

Howard is laughing in the kitchen, reminding me that our friends are only a few feet away. I lower my voice. "You _so _started it with your brainiac sexiness. Oh, yeah, as _soon _as Leonard's gone it's all _turn on the charm _with Dr. Cooper. Is this your revenge for Leonard leaving you? Steal his ex-girlfriend so he comes crawling back when he finds out? It's pathetic."

"_Excuse me," _Sheldon says heatedly, "but I've done nothing of the sort. I am sincere in my conquest, if not delusional."

"Delusional. That's the most _sincere _thing I've heard all night. You're delusional if you think any of this is going to work out."

There's an uncomfortable silence between us that is only filled by Howard making a sixty-nine joke in the kitchen. "By 'this,' you mean…" Sheldon trails off and raises his eyebrows.

"Us. You and me."

Sheldon stares at me a few moments before responding. "You think I'm sexy?"

_What?_ That's what he's managed to get from this conversation? _Whackadoodle._ "Sheldon, don't change the subject."

"I'm sorry, I was just employing a technique in which I bring up a reason why you appreciate my existence in order to alleviate your disagreeable behavior. Attempt failed. Duly noted. Please, by all means, continue to assail me with your womanly stridence." He cups a hand beneath his chin and watches me with rapt attention.

I hate him. I hate him so much. "Sheldon," I say softly, "I want you to do something for me."

"Yes, Penny?"

"You know that Relationship Agreement thingy?"

"Yes."

"Rip it up." I get up from the couch and leave him sitting in silence. I go to the kitchen and pour myself another glass of wine. Before, I couldn't wait for everyone to leave. Now, I dread being left alone with Sheldon. I glance at him against better judgment. He's not looking at me as he slowly rises from the couch. He stands there awkwardly, staring at the dinner leftovers, before abandoning the mess to escape to the depths of his Batcave.

xxxxx

**A/N: The unlucky thirteenth chapter. Sad face.**


	14. The Apology Reaction

_Sheldon_

Penny, pardon my course language, is an insufferable butthead. We haven't exchanged discourse in over a week. She drives me to work in silence. We eat together in silence. We sit in silence…in silence. As much as I appreciate the absence of irrelevant banter, the tenseness between us is more than I can possibly bear.

My dilemma is that I cannot fathom how to remedy the situation. When I need pointers on social conventions, I generally turn to Penny. Since, however, Penny is the root of my problem, I have no one to consult. Unless…

Wednesday, I take the bus home and find that Penny's absent. I decide to initiate a skype session with Dr. Beverly Hofstadter to help me through my emotional crisis. After all, she's a neurobiologist, a psychiatrist, _and_ a female. She should be well-versed in this sort of nonsense.

She appears on my laptop screen. I am happy to note she still has her hair, though it is shorter than usual. Behind her is the headboard of a hospital bed. Her expression is stern, as is customary. "Hello, Sheldon."

"'Prevening,' Beverly," I say. I've taken to calling her Beverly; we really are great pals. "How are you feeling?"

"Nauseated," she says dully.

"Ah, another round of treatment, I take it?"

"No, it's Leonard," she replies. "He won't shut up."

"Understandable." My stomach lurches. "Is he with you currently?"

"No. I sent him to the cafeteria to retrieve me some coffee. Really, it was just a ploy to get rid of him. Only a month and a half until he leaves." She sighs deeply. Then, her eyes narrow at me. "What, may I ask, is your agenda for contacting me? I'm quite ill, in case you've forgotten."

"I'm having female trouble," I begin. "Not to say, of course, that I've begun my menstruation cycle. Rather, I'm having trouble with a particular female. Penny, to be more specific."

"Ah, yes," says Beverly. "Slugger. The woman with childhood trauma as well as the woman my insufficient son was seeing. She's an emotional wreck, if I remember correctly. What of her?"

"Yes, well," I say, licking my lips, "you may be surprised to learn that I, myself, am 'seeing' her. Or, I suppose the past tense would be more suitable here. Was. I _was_ seeing her until a little over a week ago. She refuses to speak to me, and I don't know what to do. Have you any suggestions?"

"She's an unintelligent woman, Sheldon," Beverly replies rather unkindly.

Although I've been known to insult Penny's intellect – or, lack thereof – I don't appreciate Beverly's insensitivity. "Excuse me," I say, irritated, "Penny deserves some – albeit extremely limited – credit. She knows more about pop culture, fashion, and social conventions than any other member of my friendship community. Perhaps she's not quite on my aptitude level, but, really, that is no reason to – "

"Romeo," Beverly says, cutting me off. "Do you want my advice, or don't you?"

I readjust myself in my seat. "Yes, please."

"Then don't interrupt me. As she's an unintelligent woman, she will be easily bought by romantic gestures. Just show her that you care. It can be small, like making her breakfast."

"No," I say. "That's not going to work for me."

Beverly rolls her eyes. "Then find something else. The point is to show her the selfless side of you."

"But Beverly, that's not me at all."

Suddenly, Leonard's face pops into the frame. He seems to have prematurely returned from his coffee run. "Is that Sheldon I hear?" He grins at me. "Hey, _buddy_. What's happening?"

The door to my apartment opens, and Penny walks in; she's wearing her Cheesecake Factory uniform and her purse is hanging off her shoulder. She gives me a foul look.

I turn back to the screen. "I have to go." I slap the laptop close before Leonard can reply. I turn to my current roommate with Beverly's words resounding in the back of my mind: _Just show her that you care. _"Hello, Penny," I say. "How was your day?"

She throws me a look that I can only classify as suspicious. "Oh, so we're talking now?"

"Yes," I say. I clear my throat. "I've decided to forgive you."

She gapes at me. "Well, _hallelujah._ You're a real piece of work, you know that?"

Her tone suggests she is still unhappy with me. "Perhaps I've gotten this wrong," I say with uncertainty.

"Yeah. _Perhaps_." She drops her purse on the counter to rummage through the refrigerator.

I'm an intelligent fellow. I can figure this out. If she is not the one who needs forgiving, then logic dictates that _I _am the one who needs to _be_ forgiven. Hence, the only antidote for Penny's looks of contempt is for me to apologize. I cringe at the very thought. After all, _she_ started the argument in the first place.

I stand up from my desk chair. I clasp my hands behind my back and bow my head. "Penny, let me restart." I peek up at her as she turns towards me with one of my Yoo-hoos in her hand. She takes a sip. "First off, I choose to ignore the fact that you're stealing one of my beloved chocolate beverages. You're welcome. Secondly, I'm sorry." My shirt feels like it's on too tight. "I…was wrong." I look up at the ceiling, willing my face to cease its infuriating twitching. "You were correct in your previous accusation – I was the one who seduced you." _Bazinga_, I add in my mind to make myself feel better.

"However," I go on, "my affection was genuine in nature, and it remains as such." _A romantic gesture_, I remind myself. I cross the distance between us until I stand towering over her, at which point she stares at me with her larger-than-life anime eyes. I hesitate before tilting her face up with one touch of my finger to her chin. Her entire body stiffens as if she doesn't wish to frighten me away, which is just as well – I _am_ frightened.

My spine arches as I bend down to lightly kiss her forehead.

xxxxx

_Penny_

Sheldon draws back from me quickly. He squints his eyes at me and studies my face, making me feel like something under a microscope. His mouth opens as if he wants to say something.

"Oh, sweetie, please don't talk," I tell him, yanking downward on the collar of his shirt. He hesitates before obediently lowering his face to mine. He keeps his hands clasped firmly behind his back as I kiss his soft, yet unyielding, mouth. It's only just as I start to pull away that his lips move against mine.

_What the hell was that?_

There's a brief knock on the door, and we spring apart. That bitch somehow makes it all the way across the living room and in his spot before the door knob even turns. Howard walks in with Raj in tow. They come to a halt a few feet in as if they sense something in the air. Howard frowns and glances at Sheldon and then at me. Dear God, he's wearing a horrid puke-green striped v-neck shirt over a bright red dickey.

"Are we interrupting something?" Howard asks.

"No," I say just as Sheldon says, "Yes." We look at each other. Sheldon crosses one leg over the other and puts on his best lying face, which basically means that he's staring at the ceiling and trying not to move. He corrects himself. _"No."_

"Alright," says Howard slowly.

"What are you doing here?" Sheldon asks with impatience. He's on edge, I can tell.

"Wednesday? Halo night?" Howard glances at me suspiciously before frowning at Sheldon. "Are you sick or something? What's going on between you two?"

"Nothing," I say just as Sheldon says, "Mind your own business." We look at each other again. I give him the _'you're dead' _look.

Howard is suddenly squinting at Sheldon. _"Are you wearing lip gloss?"_

Sheldon licks his lips thoughtfully. "Yes," he answers. "What of it?"

"Riddle me this," says Howard with crossed arms. "_Why_ are you wearing it?"

Sheldon's eyes flick to me. "It's Penny's," he says simply.

"Yeah," I step in, "it's mine. He was complaining about chapped lips. That stuff's supposed to be really good. I wear it all the time."

Raj whispers something in Howard's ear. Howard clears his throat. "Raj says, 'Yeah. Except for now.'"

My face is burning. Raj and Howard are looking at me for an explanation. Sheldon's watching me with mild amusement. I'm sure he's thinking, _Better Penny than me._ I open my mouth to speak, but Howard holds up a hand to stop me and says, "You guys are dirty little monkeys. I can't believe this! How long has this been going on?"

"You _can't _tell Leonard," I beg. "Please."

Raj is having a fit of excitement. I momentarily forget what's going on because he's rushed into the kitchen and thrown open the fridge door. He cracks open a beer and downs a swift gulp. He turns to Sheldon and exclaims, _"I so called it, dude! I knew you wanted to bang her!"_

"No need to be crass, Rajesh," says Sheldon coolly. "Besides, we've yet to have coitus and, quite frankly, I'm unsure if I could even permit such behavior."

"No sex with Penny?" asks Raj incredulously.

"Ever?" I ask. I've never had someone say _no _to me before. I mean, I know Sheldon and Amy never got their freak on, but really…No to _me_?

Sheldon raises his eyebrows. "Did you not read the Relationship Agreement at all?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," says Howard, spinning on me. "There was a _Relationship Agreement? _How could you guys not tell us? We're your _homies_."

I ignore Howard and advance on Sheldon. "I never signed your stupid contract. Therefore, your little rules don't apply to me."

Sheldon narrows his eyes at me and frowns. He shifts in his seat with obvious discomfort, yet does not break eye contact with me. Finally, he says, "Rape is a serious crime, Penny. You won't get away with it; I have witnesses."

xxxxx

**A/N: ****Sheldon's obviously a little OOC in this chapter. But, let's face it, having him like Penny is OOC to begin with. Oh, and ****some of y'all's comments crack me up, like ****"****forget Leonard and Amy and have sex already." Ha. **


	15. The Doorknob Deficiency

_Sheldon_

In the two weeks following my apology, Penny has taken to touching me in inappropriate regions of my body. She thinks herself clever in appearing – seemingly from nowhere – to pinch my gluteus maximus with malevolent vigor. In response to these incidents, I've been forced to navigate the apartment with two hands concealing my derrière. Unfortunately, in doing so, I leave myself vulnerable to frontal attacks, such as tight embraces or salivary exchanges.

Although I am relieved that, aside from the pinching, Penny and I have been getting along, I've been experiencing trepidation as Leonard's date of return grows near. The pinching serves as a reminder for my need to appropriate Penny's old apartment from Kripke, as Penny will need a place to reside. I fear that if I am unable to drive Kripke out of the building, the only solution for Penny's apparent homelessness will be for her to live on the couch. Graver still is the idea that Penny will make use of this opportunity by attempting to sleep in _my _bedroom. No one sleeps in my bedroom except me. But I digress.

My main thesis is that I need to vanquish Kripke once and for all. This is a critical moment for my part in the monomyth. My previous assignment of specific conventional roles to people in my life has proven to be poorly constructed. Penny, for example, is neither my sidekick nor the villain in my journey. She seems to be my romantic interest and, at this point, the damsel in distress. Ergo, it is my moral responsibility to save her from the villainous plots of one Barry Kripke.

"Sheldon, what are you doing in the hallway? And what the hell _is_ that?"

I hazard a glance over my shoulder to see that my current roommate and lover is staring at me. "Really, Penny, does a Portasol HP820 Compact Butane High Power Torch mean nothing to you?"

"Sure," she says, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "It's like a laser or something, right?"

It is highly probable that I am having a stroke. I adjust my safety protection goggles. "Penny, do you know what fire is?"

She frowns. "Yeah. Why?"

I sigh. She's an idiot _and_ a liar. "No reason." I hold up the blow torch. "If you must know, I've been observing Kripke's habitual comings and goings via peephole."

"Uh, so?"

"So?" I repeat, affronted. "According to my calculations, we have a five minute margin before he returns."

"Still not following you, sweetie."

"Penny, please, my intentions are obvious. With this Portasol HP820 Compact Butane High Power Torch, I will apply heat to Kripke's doorknob. Hence, when he returns to open his door, he will burn his hand. If he's superstitious or a believer in phantasmal hokum – unlikely, but possible – he may suspect a poltergeist and be forced to move."

"You're trying to get him to move?" she asks. "I know you don't like him, but don't you think that's a little extreme?"

Drat. I've forgotten that my original desire was to keep Operation Eradicate Kripke (OEK) on the – as they say – "down low." I clear my throat. "My need to evict Kripke from the building has nothing to do with my dislike for him. Dr. Sheldon Cooper is better than that. Instead, my plan is to provide you with a residential option other than the couch."

She stares at me. "You're burning the man's doorknob for_ me? _Sheldon, from you, that's like the most romantic thing I've ever heard."

Oh, Lord, she's swooning. If I'd known she'd greet this plan with breathless admiration, I would have told her my plan sooner rather than subjecting myself to kissing her forehead by way of apology. _Woulda, coulda, shoulda. _"That's all good and well, Penny, but we're down to a two minute margin." I press the flame against Kripke's doorknob. Engaging in dangerous activities feels so _bad_; it's delicious. Once the door knob is at the desired temperature, I retreat into the apartment. Penny and I huddle at the peephole for the hilarity that is sure to ensue.

"Sheldon," Penny whispers, "why can't you just nicely ask him to move? He's more likely to do what you want if you're friendly than if you're an ass to him."

"You want me to grovel? Oh, Penny, I can't do that."

She laughs quietly. "I can always promise to sleep with him."

I glare at her. "No."

"Sheldon, it was just a j –"

"No. Now, be quiet. I think I hear someone." I'm correct – Kripke passes in front of our door. His keys jingle as he pulls them out of the front pocket of his trousers. He sticks his key in the lock, turns it, retracts the key to pocket it, and extends his hand to turn the doorknob.

Penny dissolves into an unattractive fit of nervous giggles.

Kripke pauses, his hand caught in midair. He looks over his shoulder at our door. I instinctively duck, which causes Penny to giggle even more. I am forced to seal her mouth shut with the palm of my hand. Keeping a death grip on her face, I peer out of the peephole and watch as Kripke shrugs and turns back to his door. He grabs the doorknob.

Nothing happens.

He enters his apartment and shuts the door.

"Damn it, Penny," I seethe, releasing her. "That ten second delay you caused us fated the flaming hot knob of death to the measly realm of the lukewarm. I hope you're satisfied. Now, you're doomed to live the rest of your days in our living room without anyone to call your friends save for the couch cushions." I pause for effect. "Like a hippie."

"Shut up."

A fine way to treat a gentleman on his birthday. Oh, did I not mention it? Yes, today is my birthday. Hence the Portasol HP820 Compact Butane High Power Torch, which was a gift, courtesy of Wolowitz. At work today, I was pleasantly surprised to discover that both Wolowitz _and _Koothrappali provided me with birthday presents, despite it being apparent that they did their shopping at Walmart half an hour before arriving to the university. Koothrappali was sensible enough to give me a stuffed monkey. I am satisfied. I am _not _satisfied, however, with the fact that Penny has yet to even _wish _me a happy birthday. My bitterness is understandable. After all, how could anyone forget the date that such a brilliant mind was brought forth into the universe? Lord, I'm disappointed enough that it isn't a national holiday.

I've attempted to drop several hints of it being my birthday. For example, since I'm a Taurus and am aware of her love for astrology – regardless of its ridiculousness – I've been cracking bovine jokes all day. If you are ignorant of the interrupting cow joke, I invite you to research it, as it never ceases to sustain comic validity. Despite my efforts, Penny remains as perceptive as a table lamp. Case in point: "Sheldon, if you say _moo _one more time, I swear to God…"

I set my blow torch down on the counter. "Penny," I say, turning to face her. She's sitting on the couch, flipping through a magazine about people. "It's my birthday."

"Hmm? What was that?" She doesn't even look up. Remarkable. Sometimes, I get the impression that she only comprehends 10% of what I say.

xxxxx

_Penny_

Yeah, so Sheldon thinks I don't know that it's his birthday. For the record, I do. Pretending I'm dumber than I actually am works pretty well for me; it means I get to throw Sheldon a birthday party while simultaneously pissing him off.

xxxxx

**A/N: Does anyone have any wood? **


	16. The Surprise Stimulation

_Penny _

Sheldon, childishly clueless, has no idea what's going on. I've had it all planned out for two weeks. Only, I'm going to tell Raj and Howard the plan tonight as I didn't want them giving it away sooner. I'm going to tell them to cancel for dinner, so that Sheldon will think no one cares enough to be with him on his birthday. Then, I'm going to leave the apartment with the excuse of having to be at The Cheesecake Factory. And _then_, I'm going to bait him out of the apartment with the pretext that I've been kidnapped. A Sheldon-proof plan.

I get off of the phone with Howard – I almost called Raj, but then realized that would have been stupid. _Step 1: Complete. _I change into my Cheesecake uniform: white blouse, yellow vest, denim skirt. _Check. _I shut my bedroom door behind me as I make my way to the living room. Sheldon's on the couch, browsing through an old edition of _People_; I brought every issue that I own over when I moved. He looks deeply disturbed by its contents.

"Penny," he says, showing me a picture of Bradley Cooper, "how is it that the people of _People _so rashly chose this specimen for the title of Sexiest Man Alive? Are they basing this judgment on appearance alone – unlikely, from the looks of his facial features – or, are they also taking into account his accomplishments and the sexiness of those aforementioned accomplishments? If so, what are these accomplishments? How are they sexy? What are his credentials?" He pauses to scrutinize the photo. "I bet I could beat this guy."

It always freaks me out a little when Sheldon says the word _sexy_. I walk over to him and kiss the top of his head. He gives me a dirty look before returning to his magazine. "I'm going to work," I tell him.

He narrows his eyes. "You worked at lunch."

"One of the girls got sick. They called me in for another shift. You know I could really use the money." I make a sad face.

He imitates my sad face. I know he wants to tell me it's his birthday to make me stay. He's not going to, though, because he plans to hold it over my head later since he still thinks I've forgotten his birthday. His cell phone buzzes in his pocket. He takes it out. "Great," he says. "Wolowitz just texted me with the news that neither he nor Koothrappali plan to accompany me tonight for dinner."

"That's too bad," I say, scooping my purse off of the coffee table. "I'll see you in a couple hours."

"So, two?"

"Two?"

"A couple means two." Sheldon stares at me with his blue-eyed blaze. "For example, you and I are a couple. There are two of us. A couple means two. Therefore, you will be home in two hours."

"We're not a couple," I say, turning to the door. "And in this case, 'in a couple hours' means 'whenever I get home.'" I take one last look at him before I leave. His face is crumpled with unhappiness. I shut the door. _Step 2: Complete. _

Now, I have to make sure everyone is going to be in the preset location at the right time. Also, I have to pick up a "couple" people.

xxxxx

_Sheldon_

Let me begin by saying – and I do not say this lightly – _I hate everyone._ It's my _birthday. _Perhaps Penny has forgotten, but I know for a fact that Koothrappali and Wolowitz haven't – after all, Wolowitz began his text with "I know it's your birthday, but…" I cannot believe these fools. As much as I enjoy solitude, social obligation dictates that my friends be with me to celebrate my birth. My own mother hasn't even called me.

I spend the half hour trailing Penny's departure by sulking on the couch with crossed arms and a surly expression. Then, my phone buzzes in my pocket once more. _There, _I think_. At least _someone's_ texting me to wish a joyous day. _I look at the text; it's from Penny. There are a few spelling and grammar errors in the message, as is customary from the uneducated waitress. If I were given the option of editing her words, the message would read as the following:

_Sheldon, I regret to inform you of my abduction. Two masked men brandishing weaponry have taken me prisoner after assaulting me in The Cheesecake Factory's parking lot. They have asked me to text you a location in which they expect you to trade a ransom of one hundred dollars for my safe return. If you do not show with the desired amount, they will annihilate me. If you employ the aid of the Pasadena Police Department, both of us will be annihilated. I recommend that you comply quickly. Here is the address: __3737 East Foothill Boulevard. __Good luck. _

Instead, the message reads:

_Moon pie ive been kidnapped by 2 dicks with guns in the parkin lot. They want a ransom of $100. Dont come & they shoot no cops or were both dead. Hurry!__ 3737 e. foothill blvd. _

xxxxx

_Penny_

I've texted Sheldon the place. _Step 3: Complete._

xxxxx

_Sheldon_

My mind is subject to an irritating buzzing sound as an uncomfortable prickle crawls up and down my skin. I leap from the couch to access the emergency money from the hollowed-out buttocks of my Green Lantern action figure. Then, I dial a cab to come pick me up.

If I had stopped to think, I would have donned my Flash costume to run to the address Penny provided. It would have saved me the trouble of waiting on the taxi as well as the horror of actually riding in the taxi by myself with an angry German immigrant unfamiliar of Pasadena traffic routes.

Finally, I arrive at the desired location and frown. Chuck E. Cheese's? I stop, briefly, to consider. Really, the idea is brilliant. If the police were to be involved, they'd be forced to keep in mind the possibility of the kidnappers taking child hostages. It's what I would do.

I text Penny: _I have arrived. _

She replies: _back right. _

I pick my way through the blissfully unaware children, trying not to be attracted by the flashing lights of arcade games or the mechanic whirl of dispensing achievement tickets – I am successful. My worry for Penny's wellbeing has surpassed my craving to play the arcade equivalency of _Ninja Warriors. _

I find myself at the ball pit; it's completely empty save for the balls. The pit is located in the back right of this establishment, so I _must _be in the correct place. This corner of the room has been abandoned – the children instinctively seem to know to avoid this area. My hands feel moist, so I wipe them on the front of my trousers. "Penny?" I question loudly, trying to appear braver than I feel.

Suddenly, several figures pop out of the ball pit at once, startling me to high heaven and back. As I duck and seek to shelter myself with my hands, I am greeted by a boisterous chorus of "BAZINGA!"

xxxxx

_Penny_

I should have thought to bring Sheldon an extra pair of underwear – the look on his face makes me think he's shitted himself. He clutches his chest, still trying to recover. His eyes are manic and red-rimmed, and his hair is in disarray. His mouth hangs open in a horrified gape.

"You've _lured _me here under false pretenses?" he demands without acknowledging any of the people I've invited. His eyes lock on mine as he curls his fingers through the netting that surrounds the ball pit. "Penny," he whispers, "I took a _cab_. By _myself_. How could you?"

I wade through balls of red, green, blue, and yellow to stand on my tippy toes and kiss him through the netting. "Happy birthday," I tell him. This is greeted by the cheers of our onlookers.

His mouth flickers into a half-smile, despite the fact that he's trying to look disgusted. He glances past me and his mouth falls open once more. _"Meemaw?" _

Yep, I invited his entire family: "Meemaw," his mother Mary, his sister Missy, and his brother George. I told them my plan a week ago, and they flew into Pasadena last night. I worried that having everyone in the ball pit wouldn't work because I thought Sheldon's grandmother wouldn't be able to crouch down and pop up. However, Meemaw is still surprisingly agile.

Sheldon nudges aside the flap to the ball pit and dives inside to embrace his grandmother. His family surrounds him to wish him happy birthday.

Raj, Howard, and Bernadette join me – Amy declined her invitation to join us as she thought it might be awkward. "It's weird to see someone so affectionate towards Sheldon," says Howard as we all watch Meemaw making a fuss over the birthday boy. She smells like cat piss perfume and potpourri, but Sheldon doesn't even seem to mind.

"Yeah, Meemaw's sweet," I agree.

Howard gives me a weird look. "I was talking about you. Don't think we missed that kiss back there. Barf." Raj nods in silent agreement.

"Howie told me about you two," Bernadette chimes in. "What are you going to tell Amy? Or Leonard, for that matter?"

"I don't know," I say. I really _don't_ know. Who will feel betrayed more? Amy or Leonard? I have to admit, I was a little relieved when Amy decided not to come tonight. Also, I purposefully didn't tell Leonard of my plans in case he wanted to join us for the weekend. No need to make Sheldon's birthday uncomfortable.

Sheldon breaks away from his grandmother and returns to me. "Thank you, Penny," he says sincerely. His gaze lowers to my hands. "Now, where's my present?"

"Well," I say slowly, sliding the strap of my purse from my shoulder. I build up suspense by lowering my hand into my purse and slowly pulling out his present. I hold it out to him.

He frowns. "Crumpled paper?" He takes it from me and smoothes out the wrinkles. "How did you get this from me?" he asks, staring at it. "It was in my room."

"I know. I found it and stole it."

He looks at me with crazy, mad scientist eyes. "Wh-What are you _saying_?"

"Just look at it, you little weirdo."

He looks back down to find that I've initialed next to all of the clauses and have signed my name in looping spirals at the bottom of the contract entitled _The Relationship Agreement. _

"You'll need to sign to make it official," I tell him. "I should warn you that even though I initialed next to every ridiculous rule, I refuse to follow the majority of them. Me signing your contract was purely symbolic."

I expect him to argue. Instead, his reply is calm and simple: "I hope you brought a pen."

xxxxx

_Sheldon_

When Penny and I return to the apartment after a gay evening at Chuck E. Cheese's, Penny drags me inside with a tight grip on my ever-reluctant hand. I fear the amorous activity to follow, for during the car ride home, Penny assaulted me these offensive song lyrics: _Don't need candles or cake/just need your body to make/birthday sex, _et cetera, et cetera.

We stumble through the dark living room en route to the bedroom(s?). Suddenly, the kitchen light turns on. Penny drops my hand in what appears to be shock, for, by the sink, bearing an enormous chocolate-frosted cake, stands Leonard Hofstadter. He grins. "Surprise."

xxxxx

**A/N: Dun dun dunnnn. "Bazinga" courtesy of superlc529. Okay, I re-uploaded this chapter like a gazillion times because was being glitchy and kept fucking up the second paragraph. If it's still messed up; I'm sorry. I am aware of it though. **


	17. The Towel Acquisition

_Sheldon_

My heart undergoes vigorous palpitations. I find that I am more frightened by the sight of Leonard than I ever was by my friends and family leaping out at me from the ball pit at Chuck E. Cheese's. Additionally, I've become sensitive to the fact that Penny's lip gloss stains my mouth. With haste, I wipe it away with the back of my hand.

"Leonard," says Penny in a tone that is of unmistakable timidity, "what on earth are you doing here?"

"What, you think I would miss Sheldon's birthday?" Leonard asks as he sets the cake on the counter. I am overcome with the desire to flee to my bedroom. "I'm only here for the night– I plan to return to Jersey tomorrow evening." He offers one of his goofiest grins to me. "I brought you a bunch of new comic books to read."

I open my mouth to reply, but all that comes out is a squeak akin to that of a field mouse. I clap a hand over my lips, furiously fighting the bubbling swell within me; I am torn between the need to tell Leonard everything and the want to run away – pardon my sexism – like a small female child.

Ultimately, the small female child in me succeeds.

xxxxx

_Penny_

Without warning, Sheldon bounds away like a little bunny. He makes it as far as the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him. Seconds later, the shower turns on – the water must be scalding hot, as steam almost instantaneously curls out from under the bathroom door.

"What was that all about?" Leonard asks, staring after him blankly. "And _dammit_, I needed to pee." He glances at me. "I thought Sheldon would be happy to see me…"

I clear my throat to give me time to think of a cover. "Yeah, I'm sure he is," I say. "It's just, well, we went to Chuck E. Cheese's, and a bunch of kids touched him."

"Ah," says Leonard knowingly. "Yeah, that'll do it." There's a pause as he stops to look at me fondly. "I've really missed you." He stretches his arms out toward me, and I obediently fall into his embrace. Although it's great to see Leonard, there's only one thing going through my mind: _He's come back too soon. _Everything I've built with Sheldon will be ruined – Sheldon'll either be scared off by Leonard's surprise return and not want to be with me, or else Sheldon'll crack under the pressure and tell Leonard everything, perhaps destroying two friendships forever.

I quickly break away from Leonard and silently curse everything from his stupid, thick glasses and unruly brown hair, to his lack of height and his gnomish features. He's here messing with my head and making me doubt myself. _Cock block_.

"I've missed you too," I tell him. _Bazinga. No, I haven't. _Great. Now, _Sheldon_ is the one who's in my head. _Oh, Lord_. Ugh, there he is again.

"Do you want me to put on a pot of coffee?" Leonard asks, starting toward the kitchen. "I want to catch up."

There's a warning blaring against the inside of my skull like a nuclear alarm. I know Leonard's tactic – talk about unimportant things for a good half hour before getting to the meat of his agenda. Or, as I'd like to call it, GTF. _Gym, Tan, Find out who Penny's been dating._ Ah, there's the familiar line of thinking that I've been missing.

"Sure," I say warily. "While you make coffee, I'm gonna change into my PJs."

"Okay." He turns his back on me to open a can of Folgers. I make my way down the hall. Instead of going to my room, I slip into the bathroom. The air is heavy with steam and the combined floral scents of different soaps. I squint to make out the Periodic Table shower curtain. I can barely see Sheldon's shadow moving behind it as he lathers his hair for, perhaps, the thousandth time. I tip-toe towards the shower and gently nudge aside the curtain.

"Sheldon," I whisper, "I need to talk to – "

Despite the "whimsical adhesive ducks" he brags about having stuck to the floor of his tub, Sheldon lets out an unearthly yelp and slips. He reaches out to grab the curtain to steady himself, which just causes the curtain to tear from its metal rungs. Sheldon lands on the floor of the tub with a _thwump_, the curtain only half-concealing him. He tries to curl into a little ball. "Don't look at me," he cries, shutting his own eyes as if that would help his situation.

"Is everything alright in there, Sheldon?" Leonard calls through the bathroom door.

I freeze.

"No," Sheldon hisses, finally opening his eyes to glare at me.

I slap his wet shoulder.

"I'm fine, Leonard! No need to be alarmed!" Sheldon then lowers his voice so that only I can hear. "You're violating not only multiple clauses, but multiple agreements. I'm afraid I'll have to put you on both roommate and girlfriend probation. There will be a hearing. Attendance is mandatory." He tries to yank the curtain across his lap, but it's too late. I've already seen everything. "Additionally, it's quite possible that I've permanently damaged my tail bone."

"I'll give you a butt massage later," I say, "but right now we've got a bigger problem. What are we gonna do about Leonard?"

Sheldon blinks soap out of his eyes, as the shower is still running. "Well, Penny, I don't know about you, but I intend to studiously avoid him. If that plan goes awry, my only other option is suicide. I hope it will not come to that."

"So, you're not going to tell him?" I demand.

"Tell him what? With this act of invasion of privacy, it is more than likely that our Relationship Agreement has been rendered void. We'll find out more at the hearing."

"You know what, Sheldon? You're gonna have to come to terms with the fact that sooner or later, we'll have to be naked together. Try to be mature about this. Meanwhile, _Leonard?_ We can't tell him now, but he's bound to find out at some time. Maybe it would be best to wait until I move out for us to tell him."

He crosses his arms over his bare chest, looking flushed by the heat of the shower. "Mature? _Mature? _Oh, Penny, in what universe is it mature to sneak up on a gentleman during his bathing routine?" His tone is accusatory. "Ah, yes, I see it all quite clearly."

"What?"

"Libido: one." He traces a vertical line in the air with his finger. "Maturity: zero." He draws an oval.

"_What?"_

"You _wanted _to see me in my exposed form, or – as they say – in my birthday suit, which is appropriate considering the fact that it is, indeed, my birthday." He juts his chin out at me.

"Of course I did," I say flatly. "But that's beside the point." Sheldon looks deeply affronted by this information. I wave my hand at him to prevent him from saying anything else. "Hold that thought. Here, I'll help you hang the curtain back up."

"I can do it myself," he snaps. "Avert your eyes."

I roll them instead.

"Penny," he warns.

I turn my back on him, waiting on the sound of him pinning the curtain back up and zipping it shut to return to the conversation. After he gives me the all-clear, I spin around to talk to him through the Periodic Table.

"Happy now?" I ask.

He pokes his head out of one side of the curtain. _"No." _

"Look, I'm sorry I scared you and intruded in on your shower time. But, the sooner you help me figure out what to do about Leonard, the sooner I can let you get back to your shower."

He considers this. He draws his head back into the shower. "Proceed," he says.

"For one, I think we should make sure we keep Leonard away from Raj and Howard. There's no way they'll keep a secret for _you _from Leonard…"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sheldon asks. I can hear the frown in his voice.

"Oh, c'mon, Sheldon. There's no way you could think – "

Someone bangs on the bathroom door, making me jump. "Sheldon?" Leonard calls. "I really have to pee. I know we're not roommates right now, but I evoke the right of Bathroom Emergency."

"Leonard, _no_," Sheldon protests.

"I'm coming in anyway," he says.

"Oh, God." I look around for a hiding place. Leonard can't find me in here. I'm supposed to be changing in my room, not chatting up his naked best friend.

The doorknob turns.

"_Leonard," _Sheldon hisses furiously.

I rip aside the shower curtain and leap inside with Sheldon; he yelps again. I fumble to close the curtain just as Leonard crosses the threshold to the bathroom. Already, my clothes are completely soaked. To stop Sheldon from giving me away, I clamp a hand over his mouth. We stand there, staring at each other. My eyes flick down on impulse. Sheldon slaps his hand over my eyes in result. Everything goes black, and we stand in steamy silence. It's so hot that I feel like my clothes are going to melt off.

"Ah," says Leonard. "You have no idea how long I've been holding that." The toilet flushes. "I was scared that if I peed before you got here, I'd miss surprising you in the kitchen."

Sheldon tries to reply through my hand, but his voice comes out muffled and gurgled.

"What?" Leonard asks, running the sink faucet.

I remove my hand so he can talk.

"_Penny!" _he shouts furiously.

I clamp my hand over his mouth again.

"Uh, no. It's Leonard," says Leonard. He sounds suspicious. I hear him closing the lid of the toilet – he must be sitting down to talk. "Sorry I missed the Chuck E. Cheese festivities. Penny didn't tell me she was having a party for you, or else I would have gone."

Sheldon grunts noncommittally. His fingers are pressing so hard against my eyeballs that I'm seeing spots and stars behind my lids. I slap him repeatedly with one hand to let me go while keeping my other hand pressed firmly against his mouth.

"Sheldon, what are you doing in there?" asks Leonard with uncertainty.

Sheldon hits my hand away to speak. "Showering, of course." Then, he releases his death grip on my eyes. I gasp as he roughly spins me around by the shoulders so that I'm facing away from him. Then, he draws me in closer so that my back is up against his chest. I blink water out of my vision.

"What was that slapping sound?" Leonard sounds a little repulsed.

"Quite frankly, Leonard, that's none of your damn business."

This is awkward.

"I should go," says Leonard hastily.

"Yes, you should," Sheldon calmly replies. "I'll let you know when I finish."

This is really awkward.

"Uh, no, that's okay." Leonard seems to stumble on his way out, as if he can't leave fast enough. The bathroom door closes loudly.

"Odd," says Sheldon. He releases me.

_Whackadoodle. _

"Now, get out," he says. "And don't drip down the hallway."

"Dripping is the least of my worries." What if Leonard catches me coming out of the bathroom? How am I going to explain being wet? Ugh, _not like that. _I mean my _hair_. God.

I step out of the shower and look around for a towel. The only available one is Sheldon's. Feeling particularly malicious, I take it and wrap it around my head and slowly open the bathroom door. No sign of Leonard. Sheldon probably disgusted him out of the apartment. I step out into the hallway and shut the door behind me.

The shower suddenly turns off. The curtain slides aside. "Where's my towel?" Sheldon questions aloud. Then – _"PENNY!"_

"Shit." I break into a run for my room, leaving a trail of puddles behind me.

"Penny? Is that you?" Leonard calls from the living room. "What's taking you so long?"

"DAMN IT, PENNY," Sheldon bellows from the bathroom. "FORGET THE HEARING. THIS GOES STRAIGHT TO TRIAL."

I slide into my room and lock the door behind me, breathing a sigh of relief. Oh, Lord.

xxxxx

**A/N: So I recently watched the episode where Penny falls in the shower. I was like, "How could I make this more awkward?" Anyway, I have half a mind to hunt down those of you who choose to read and not review. You know who you are. **_**Yeah, you. **_


	18. The Luggage Collision

_Penny_

"What's going on?" Leonard pounds on my door for answers. "Why is Sheldon all upset? What did you do to him?"

A better question: _What haven't I done to Sheldon? _I wring out my wet clothes over a plastic laundry basket before answering. (Gross, I know). "What are you talking about?" I unwrap Sheldon's towel from around my head and shake my hair out. I'd have to blow dry my hair to convince Leonard of my innocence, but if I did that, he'd hear the blow dryer.

"He won't come out of the bathroom," Leonard complains.

"Look, Leonard," I say, folding down my sheets. New tactic: go to bed. "I have no idea what you're talking about." I pretend to yawn. "I'm tired. I think I'll skip the coffee and go to bed." At this point, there's really nothing better to do. Sheldon's pissed at me, and Leonard's running interference. Either way, no one's getting birthday sex.

Leonard falls silent on the other side of the door. "Oh, okay." He sounds disappointed. "G'night, then. See you in the morning."

"G'night," I call back, turning out the light.

xxxxx

_Sheldon_

Naked and cold and trapped in a lavatory. This is not the way I intended to die.

My pride forbids me from seeking help from Leonard and requesting another towel – there is no way I can allow him to know of my vulnerably nude state. I poke my head around the bathroom door, looking for signs of life in the hallway. There are none; _perhaps_, I can make a mad dash to my bedroom without being caught.

I set one naked foot out in the hallway. Nothing. I gently ease the rest of my body out to meet the onslaught of chilled air. I close my eyes. _The horror. _

"Sheldon…What are you doing?"

Drat.

I open my eyes. Leonard is standing at the mouth to the living room with a mug of coffee in his hand. His face wears the most inscrutable expression.

"Evening, Leonard," I say briskly as I start off to my room. I leave him standing there, alone and confused.

xxxxx

_Leonard_

This wasn't exactly the "welcome home" I had in mind.

I sit down on the couch, by myself, and drink my coffee. After a few minutes of peace, during which I attempt to erase the image of a naked Sheldon, I hear footsteps down the hall. I look up in the hope that Penny has changed her mind.

Sheldon emerges, bound tightly in his plaid robe, from the hallway. He hovers at the edge of the living room, his mouth drawn into a tight line. "I'm sorry you had to see that, Leonard," he finally says.

"Care to explain _why_ I had to see that?"

"I'd rather not." He sits down on the couch beside me.

I probably don't want to know anyway. I decide to change the subject. "Actually, I'm glad you're here," I say. "There's something I've been thinking about, and I'd like your advice."

"As a superior human being with knowledge in nearly everything, I am only happy to oblige." Sheldon crosses one leg over the other – something he does when he's being a cocky bastard.

"Alright, well, I was thinking…What if I got back together with Penny?"

Sheldon's first reaction is an uncontrolled breathy laugh. Then, he stops himself. He considers my proposal with squinted eyes and a head tilt. Mostly, he just looks uncomfortable. "Hmm," he says.

"Hmm?" I question. "What's 'hmm'? Is that a good _hmm_, as in _hmm, what an excellent idea, Leonard_? Or, is that a bad _hmm_, as in _hmm, a better idea would be to kill yourself_?"

"The latter," he replies, "as long as you don't take the suggestion literally." He uncrosses his legs and squirms in his seat. He avoids eye-contact with me and keeps looking toward the hallway as if he longs to return to his room.

Now, I'm suspicious. As peculiar as Sheldon is on a regular basis, the behavior he's currently exhibiting strays far from his personal norm. "What do you know?" I demand. He starts to get up off the couch, but I snag his wrist and yank him back down. "Don't bother. You're going to tell me what you know."

He winces at me.

"_Now_, Sheldon," I say sternly. A person rarely gets his way with Sheldon, but if he does, he does so by being stern.

"_Al_right," he says, giving in. "Penny is currently in the throes of a heinous love affair."

_"What?" _I get a sinking feeling in my chest. "With whom?"

Sheldon shrugs ambiguously.

_"Sheldon."_

Something in Sheldon snaps. "Don't ask me, Leonard!" he shouts. He stands up, flustered and twitchy. "If you care so much about it, ask Penny yourself." A pink flush accents his cheek bones.

"Jeez." I hold up my hands defensively. "Sorry. I didn't realize it was such a secret, okay? You can't tell me; I understand."

Sheldon hesitates before sitting back down.

I decide to take an alternative approach to the situation. "Tell me honestly…Do you think I can take this guy? Is he better looking than I am?"

"I suppose I can answer that," replies Sheldon. "No to the first question, but yes to the second."

"That doesn't sound promising." I scrub my fingers through my hair. If she's back with Kurt again, I have no chance. I ask the next question with a slowly growing sense of dread. "Is he tall?"

Sheldon looks at me in a way that an untrained eye would mistake for sympathy. "Why do you torture yourself, Leonard? If you must know, however, the answer is _yes_. He's tall, attractive, and brilliant. Or, to sum up: everything you are not."

What an asshole. I bury my face in my hands. Who is this guy and how did Penny manage to find him in the short weeks that I've been absent? Also, why is it a secret? It bothers me that Penny would share something in confidence with the likes of Sheldon, yet she can't be troubled to fill me in. Or, is she specifically keeping this information from me? If so, why?

"Your face-in-hands pose suggests that you are upset," says Sheldon with uncertainty.

"Yeah," I say into my fingers, "I'm upset." I look up at him.

"I was right." He halfheartedly punches the air with his fist. "Score."

"I appreciate you telling me all of this," I say to Sheldon, "but if you don't mind, I'd prefer to be alone right now."

He slowly stands up. "Alright," he says.

He's halfway out of the living room when I add, "I just hope this guy is decent enough to know how to treat her properly."

Sheldon pauses, but does not turn to face me. Then, he continues walking. His footsteps are soft in his retreat.

xxxxx

_Sheldon_

The morning following my birthday, I awake to a disheveled Penny lurking over my bed. Narrowly avoiding an output of urine, I chastise her for her insensitivity in frightening me. Instead of apologizing, she smacks me in the face.

I gape at her. "Excuse me, but – "

She pinches my lips shut with her thumb and forefinger. "Don't talk, just listen. Perhaps you'd like to know _why_ I'm up at the crack of dawn? Or, better yet, how I could possibly be up _before_ you?"

Actually, I would prefer to be privy to the information concerning why she's entered my room without permission and, furthermore, how she could have the audacity to slap me in the face upon my arousal. Unfortunately, my attempts to voice my opinion are hindered by her purple-painted fingernails.

"Leonard knocked on my door to say goodbye. He's taking the earlier flight back to New Jersey. He's already packed up and everything, and now he's taking a quick shower." She gives me a scrutinizing look before continuing. "He won't tell me why he's upset, but I think I already know. Question is: do you?" She unpins my lips.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," I say, sitting up in bed.

She twists my ear. _"What did you tell him?" _

"Ow, ow, owie," I complain. "Good Lord, Penny. Release me at once, and I'll tell you."

She unhands me.

"All I told him was that you're currently seeing someone. To paraphrase, I said that he doesn't have a Snowball's chance in a CAT scanner in competing with the said someone."

_"Sheldon."_

"Penny, you know how I feel about fabricating the truth," I say. Despite my avid protests, however, she forces me out of bed to accost Leonard coming out of the shower. My objective, as assigned by Penny, is to prevent Leonard from leaving.

I grab the sleeve of Leonard's robe during his trek to the living room in order to acquire fresh clothes from his overnight bag. "Please, Leonard," I say monotonously. "Don't. Go." I give Penny a particular look to establish my lack of enthusiasm in the matter.

"Sheldon, it's not a big deal," says Leonard, shrugging out of my grip. "I'll be back in a couple weeks."

"So, two?" I question.

"Two?"

"A couple means two."

"Sheldon, sweetie," says Penny. "Shut up."

"I'll be back in about a month." Leonard sighs as he carries his clothes into the bathroom to change. He shuts the door behind him and calls out, "Not that anyone cares."

"Well, with that kind of attitude," I tell him, "it's no wonder that we don't."

_"Sheldon," _Penny reprimands, slapping me for the second time today; it won't be the final assault either. Something _must _be done about that female.

As Leonard reemerges from the bathroom, he gives me an undeserved foul look. As far as I'm concerned, I've yet to do anything offensive, aside from the fact that I've stolen his desired mate. Well – as my Meemaw likes to put it – that's just tough turkey.

Leonard bumps into me – no doubt on purpose – as he strides towards the door. He pauses, turning to Penny. "I'll call you when I land in Jersey. Sorry that my visit was so short." He draws her into his arms to hug her, closing his eyes and resting his chin on her shoulder.

I cross my arms and count. _One Mississippi. Two Mississippi. Three Mississippi._ I narrow my eyes. _Four Mississippi._ This tomfoolery has gone on long enough. _Five Mississippi._ "Alright, alright," I say, stepping between them to sever their embrace. "Enough of that. I'd hate for you to miss your flight, Leonard." Leonard gives me a bewildered look as I – for lack of a better word – shove him out into the hallway. I toss his overnight bag after him; it unfortunately catches him in the visage. "I wish you a speedy return." I slam the door shut and turn on Penny. _"What was that?"_

Penny gapes at me. "What was that what? Don't _what was that_ me. What was _that_?"

"What?"

"You just pushed Leonard out of the door and threw luggage at his face!"

"Excuse me, Penny, but I am from the South. As a southern gentleman, it was my moral obligation to defend my honor. Just be thankful I'm not in possession of a pistol."

xxxxx

**A/N: This was a poop chapter. I just really wanted to get rid of Leonard. I wish Sheldon did have a pistol so he could shoot the whiney bastard. Also, I'll try to spit out a chapter soon if you guys are good. Thanks for the reviews; I really appreciate 'em. **


	19. The Mountain Expedition

_Sheldon_

"Just admit it! You were jealous." Penny finishes gluing together her final Penny Blossom. She holds it up to the light, assessing its perfection. She seems satisfied, for she places it in a cardboard box along with eight others.

"That one is crooked," I tell her.

She wears a facial expression bereft of affection. "Don't change the subject."

"If you stopped gluing your hair accessories together incorrectly, I wouldn't have to."

It is nearly five o'clock in the afternoon on Sunday. Leonard, of course, departed earlier today – since then, Penny's been badgering me to acknowledge what _she _believes to be jealousy. The accusation is ridiculous. If I were able to experience jealousy, I wouldn't have thrown a measly overnight bag at Leonard. Lord, no. No, if I'd been _jealous_, I would have pummeled his glasses into separate components with my Hulk fists. I might have even taken my Portasol HP820 Compact Butane High Power Torch to his face. Not that I ponder these things. No. Only a jealous man would fixate on such a vein of thought. Not Dr. Sheldon Cooper.

"You know what? You don't even have to admit it. I already know." Penny peels long, gummy strands of glue from her fingers.

"Know what?" I ask, feigning interest in another issue of _People Magazine. _

"That you were jealous. I get it; Leonard's an ex. But, _really_, you have nothing to worry about."

If I were jealous, which I'm not, I'd retort that as Leonard has nefarious intentions of dragging Penny back into his love life, I do, indeed, have something to worry about. Luckily, nothing concerning Leonard _or_ Penny has the possibility of stirring up jealous emotions within me. So, instead, I reply, "Of course I have nothing to worry about. Quite frankly, Penny, you're the one who needs to keep en garde."

"Huh?"

I look up at her as she packs away the last of her blossom-making kit. "Penny," I say, resisting the urge to sigh in exasperation, "I'm an attractive man."

Her eyebrows contract in what appears to be disbelief.

"Oh, don't look at me like that," I warn. "We're both aware of my charm with the ladies. They swoon; it's embarrassing."

I can't understand why she's laughing at me. Nothing I'm saying is particularly amusing, yet she crumples against the armchair in near hysterics. I am somewhat abashed to observe how alluring Penny becomes when she laughs, especially when I am the one to make her do so. I shift in my seat with discomfort.

"Aw, Sheldon," she says between laughs, "this is why I love you."

I stare at her.

My steel gaze seems to sober her up, for she clears her throat and says, "I didn't mean it like _that_."

"Yes," I say in agreement, "and I wasn't jealous."

An uncomfortable silence follows.

"So," Penny chimes, bouncing up from the chair, "I guess I'm outta here."

"Where are you going?" I ask. "Not that I'm particularly invested in any matter concerning your whereabouts." (I'm _not_).

"I'm headed to the Open Space Preserve," she says, picking up the box of Penny Blossoms.

I frown. "As in the Verdugo Mountains Open Space Preserve?"

"Uh…_yeah_," she says, as if the answer is that obvious. "There's a park ranger who lives in the preserve; he ordered a bunch of Penny Blossoms for the girls in his family, but mailmen don't deliver up there. He explained to me in an email to deliver them to a friend's house here in Pasadena, but I figured I'd just bring them to his cabin myself. It takes, what, twenty minutes?"

I consider this before standing up. "Yes, alright, I suppose I can go with you."

"That wasn't an invitation," Penny says blankly.

"I wish to accompany you because of the bears."

"What bears?"

"Bears. There will be bears. Really, Penny, _mountains? _Of course there will be bears."

"Yeah, but you don't _like _bears."

"Who would? They're terrifying."

"So…_Why_ are you coming?"

It always astounds me how a human being can function on such a low IQ. This time, I am unable to stifle my sigh. "Penny, my agenda is obvious. I am coming to ward off the bears."

"I thought you didn't care."

"I don't _care_, Penny. I am morally obligated to protect you. Besides, it's in my best interest to do so. How many allies would I have if I allowed you to be eaten by bloodthirsty Californian fauna? _No one _would want to talk to me – more importantly, however, no one would praise me for my contributions to science. It would always be 'Oh, Dr. _Cooper._ The guy who fed his girlfriend to a bunch of bears. Yes, let's not associate with that fellow.'"

Penny's smiling a little, and I'm not sure why.

xxxxx

_Penny_

I'm smiling because Sheldon's adorable. For someone so uncomfortable with being untruthful, he sure tells a lot of lies.

I link my arm through his and lean my head against his shoulder. "Okay, sweetie," I say. "You can come." 

"Shotgun."

I roll my eyes.

xxxxx

_Sheldon _

"So, the bitch ass girl was like, 'I wanted the cheese on the side.'"

"Penny, slow down."

"So, I was like, 'Well, bitch, you should have said that.'"

"Slow down, Penny."

"Except, I didn't say 'bitch' because I wanted a tip. But she didn't even give me a tip, so I _should _have called her a bitch."

"Penny? Slow down."

"Can you believe that? That dirty little skank gave me nothing."

"_For the love of God, Penny, slow down." _I clutch the handle on the car door as we whip around another hairpin turn.

She finally answers me. "Sheldon, if I go any slower, we'll go backwards down the mountain. It's fine. I know what I'm doing."

"Obviously not," I snap. "You're not even following the recommended route on my GPS."

"What?" She peeks at the GPS.

"_Penny. The road? Yes, keep your eyes on it." _

She has to jerk the wheel to keep us from plummeting to our deaths. "Stop worrying. I've got this. Though, you should've told me I was going in the wrong direction. _Your _job was to navigate. Maybe you should focus less on how I drive and more on directing where the hell I'm supposed to go."

"Well, Penny, if you hadn't spent the last ten minutes enlightening me with the woes of waitressing, perhaps I would've been able to avoid our current predicament."

"What predicament?"

"We're _lost._"

"_Hello?_ That's what the GPS is for, genius." She squints through the shaded dimness of the trees. "I just have to find a place to turn around."

I look down at the GPS in my hands. The screen goes black. "Oh, Lord."

"What now?" she asks as she attempts a three-point turn on a flat stretch of road. There's a sheer drop on one side of the road, and a drainage divot on the other side where the road meets the mountain. Her three-pointer becomes a seven-pointer. Yes, even in my panicked state, I count each of the turns.

"The batteries died. _And_, as there is no cell phone service here, I can't look at the map on my phone. Oh, _Lord. _I left my emergency stranded-in-the-Californian-wilderness equipment at home. _We're going to die._" This is the worst day of my life. Damn Penny and her feminine vulnerability; I should have just allowed her to be devoured by the bears. Due to my heroics, I will face immeasurable suffering.

"Don't worry," says Penny, still trying to turn the car around, "we'll just go back the way we came. If I can't deliver the blossoms today, I can do it tomorrow. The park is closing soon anyway."

To avoid backing over the side of the mountain, Penny is a little too heavy on the gas pedal. The car jerks forward, landing the front two wheels into the divot. She tries to reverse out of the ditch, but the wheels spin fruitlessly and kick up clots of mud and grass.

"Congratulations, Penny," I tell her. "You've doomed us all."

She turns off the car and looks at me, tears threatening to spill from her shiny eyes.

I recoil, alarmed. "If you're going to cry, I'm getting out of the car." I'd rather face the bears than Penny being upset.

"I'm s-sorry," she says, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her hands. "I should have been paying attention. C'mon. We have to walk now."

"Penny, it's illegal to be here after sunset. If we're discovered – "

"If we stay here, we'll still be in the park after sunset. Maybe we can find the park ranger on the way down." She reaches into the backseat for the box of Penny Blossoms. "He might be able to help us."

She slides out of the car and lands in the ditch.

I'm still panicking in the car with my seatbelt latched firmly across my chest. There's no way I can comfortably walk down the mountain in the growing darkness. "Perhaps someone should stay behind and look after the car. You know, to defend it against raccoons."

She glares at me through the driver's window. "_Get your skinny butt out of the goddamn car_. I'm sure we can get down there before it gets completely dark."

I obediently climb out of the car. The gravelly road crunches beneath our shoes as we start down the mountain. The air is cool, heavy, and damp. Crickets – _Snowy Tree Crickets_ to be more specific – start up their chorus all around us. I count their trills to deduce the current temperature, converting Fahrenheit to Celsius in my head. Close to 17 degrees Celsius. Odd; the air feels much cooler. I frown and start over, squinting at my watch to keep time.

"You look constipated," says Penny, tugging on my hand so I can't look at my watch. "Stop thinking so hard. Let's just enjoy the view; it's so pretty up here." She tries to lace her fingers through mine, but I manage to break away.

"I'm in the middle of being a scientist," I say. "I'd appreciate it if you'd refrain from distracting me with your trivial displays of affection." Twigs snap in the underbrush to the right, and there is an animalistic hiss. I jump and snatch up Penny's hand in mine. "What was that?" I whisper, fearful.

"What was that about trivial displays of affection?" she asks, squeezing my hand.

"Not now, you foolish female. There's an animal. I can feel it watching us. Yes, yes, it must be a bear." My adrenaline spikes. Smells become sharp. Sounds become crisp.

"Bears don't hiss, Sheldon," Penny says. "It's probably just a – "

There's another hiss and something streaks out of the foliage and bounds down the road away from us.

" – deer," Penny finishes. "See? Stop being a baby. They hiss when they're scared – it won't attack you."

"My apologies," I say scathingly. "I was unaware of your familiarity with the inner workings of deer brains. Are you a deer psychologist? Do you _know _that particular deer? Can you be certain he's not off to assemble an army to ambush us at the base of the mountain? _Can _you?"

"You're being ridiculous," she snaps.

"Am I, Penny? _Am I?_ Because I don't think so. If I – " I am interrupted by a low, guttural growl. Penny and I freeze, still latched together by our fingers. I gulp down a dose of fear and say, "Was _that _a deer noise?"

"No," says Penny, her voice cracking, "it wasn't."

We look at each other. "A speedy retreat to the car?" I whisper.

"On the count of three. One…"

"Two," I say.

"Thr – "

I take off running before she can expel the rest of the word from her mouth. I yank her after me up the mountain back towards the car. We tumble into the ditch, and Penny fumbles for her car keys. She drops them in the dirt.

"Penny," I say, ducking down by the wheel to pick the keys up. "Some swiftness would be desirable." I nudge her out of the way and unlock the driver's door. Afterwards, I climb inside and grab her arm, pulling her into my lap and slamming the door shut behind her. I lock the car for good measure. We sit there, our chests heaving for air. She leans her head back, resting it below my chin.

"You could be right," she says lightly. "We might die. I guess we'll have to try and hold out 'til morning." She climbs out of my lap and into the backseat. "Might as well get comfortable."

I consider this. Then, I climb into the backseat with her. She sprawls out across the seat, resting her head in my lap. I awkwardly pat her head and wind strands of her yellow hair around my fingers.

"What do you think we should talk about before we die?" she asks, smiling.

I remind her that this is a serious situation and the possibility of our demise is nothing to joke about. "Though," I add, "I _do_ have something to confess."

"Hmm?"

I look out of the window into the dense shrubbery. All's quiet save for the singing of the crickets. "You were right."

"About what?"

"About Leonard." I refuse to look at her as I say this. "I was jealous."

She bobs up from my lap. "I _knew _it." Her grin is irritatingly wide. Then, her smile falters and she looks away. "I guess I've also got something to confess."

I wait expectantly.

"Remember what I said earlier?"

"I remember everything," I reply evenly. "Except for, of course, extra batteries. That aside, you might want to be a little more specific."

"What I said before we left the apartment. After _you_ said that you make girls swoon."

I stare at her.

She huffs, "If you don't remember…"

I smirk. "I remember. I just want to hear you say it."

"I'm not going to say it twice."

"Alright. Well, what of it?"

She shrugs nonchalantly, despite the fact that her eyes give away everything. "I meant it."

xxxxx

**A/N: So, I lied about having a speedy update. My bad. Also, when you leave a review – **_**when**_** being the operative word here – include an idea of something you'd like to see in the next chapter. The best idea/the most popular idea will be put in. And don't say, **_**Make them have sex. **_**C'mon. Y'all are more creative than that. **


	20. The Naked Lap Emanation

_Sheldon_

There is a roughly-shaped rectangle of sky through which Penny and I can see the glow of starlight from the car window. Although Koothrappali is the astrophysicist of my social group, it does _not_ mean that I cannot enjoy the wonders of the night sky. Besides, I am well-versed in the the luminosity, density, temperature, and chemical composition of various stars – in fact, I am probably a better candidate for Koothrappali's job than Koothrappali himself.

"And _that's _Cassiopeia," I say, pointing out the constellation.

"It doesn't look like anything to me," Penny says, pushing her face up against the glass.

"That's because many of the stars aren't visible to the naked eye. If I'd thought to bring a telescope, I could show you the constellation properly." I sigh. "I don't know what's become of my mind these days. First I forget my emergency equipment, and now the telescope. No use lamenting over it, I suppose. Yes, well, some of the stars that you _may _or may _not _see include Caph, Shedir, Tish, Ruchbah, and – "

"Shedir," says Penny, interrupting me. "I like that."

"Yes, the name comes from the Arabic word _şadr_."

"I like it. It sounds like a good baby name," she says, turning towards me. I can barely make out her wide smile in the night.

I blink. "Penny, _şadr_ means _breast_."

Her smile falls. "Oh." Then, she says, "Scientists are dirty bastards."

"No," I say, "that particular star just happens to be located at Cassiopeia's chest in the constellation."

"Is that how you nerdy guys get off? By looking at constellation boobies?"

"Don't be crass. But yes; some of them do."

"Do _you?_"

"Penny, please." I give her a look. "And in case my face is impossible for you to discern due to the surrounding darkness, I'm peering at you with derision."

"Well then, why don't you tell me what does?" Her mouth is very close to mine as she whispers the next bit: "What gets _Dr. Cooper _off?"

Now, those damn crickets are _definitely _incorrect about the temperature.

"Is that a rhetorical question?" I ask faintly, pressing my back against the window. My retreat does not seem to inhibit her advance – she crawls closer and closer to me. Then, there is the sound of rustling fabric. "Penny…What are you doing?"

"Taking off my shirt," she says.

"Alright." I frown. "Why?"

"Why don't you find out?" she asks just before she puts her mouth on mine.

I shrug inwardly, tolerating her sexual abuse. Then, I leisurely put my hands on her. Despite my previous declaration of being able to remember almost everything, I forget about being imprisoned in a car, about Cassiopeia and all of the star names I know, about the fact that I will be late for work tomorrow morning, and, most disturbingly, I forget about the bears.

xxxxx

_Penny_

There's a knocking sound. "Ugnnn," I groan, rolling over. I keep my eyes closed.

"Penny."

The knocking sound starts up again. "Shuddup, Sheldon," I mumble. "Just come in. You don't have to keep knocking…"

"Penny."

"Sheldon!" I snap, finally opening my eyes. Above me is a low, fuzzy felt ceiling. Huh? My back hurts, and I realize I've been sleeping topless on Sheldon all night. He's, of course, fully clothed. There's another knock.

"Penny," he says, looking at me with an enigmatic expression. "That isn't me. I've been trying to rouse you for several minutes."

"What the hell is that? A woodpecker?"

Sheldon points at the window across from him. I lift my head to look; there's a park ranger tapping on our window with the butt of his flashlight. "Get out of the car, please," the man says, his voice muffled by the window pane.

"Oh my _god_," I say, burning with embarrassment as I fumble to get my shirt on. Sheldon reaches past me to unlock the door for the park ranger. The ranger opens it and crosses his arms.

"Good morning," says Sheldon pleasantly to the park ranger.

The ranger is tan with a thick brown mustache that takes up most of his face. He frowns at us – or, rather, his _mustache _frowns at us – as he says, "You realize that it's illegal to be in this park after hours, don't you?" He steps back and looks down at the tires. "But, looking at the state of your car, I'm guessing your trespassing was unavoidable."

"Yes," says Sheldon, "my girlfriend is an inept driver. Despite this, I'd go easy on her. After all, she's only female."

I ignore him. "I came here yesterday before the park closed to deliver a package to one of the rangers."

"You must be Penny," says the ranger with a knowing look. "I'm Roberto Robertson."

I reach for the box of Penny Blossoms and climb out of the car. "I guess these are for you. Sorry I'm late. We got a little turned around."

"Yes, and there was a bear," Sheldon adds, sliding out of the car behind me.

The ranger laughs. "If there were any bears at all, they were just black bears. You know, those usually leave people alone."

Sheldon is dissatisfied with this explanation. "Well, _this _one tried to eat us."

"I don't think so," says Roberto.

"We should have brought a rifle."

"Hunting is illegal on the preserve."

"For self-defense."

"Firearms are prohibited."

"Mace, then."

"No."

"I don't like you." Sheldon glares at the ranger.

"I'm sorry to hear that," says Roberto.

"When my boyfriend is done being rude, is it possible that we can get a ride somewhere with a landline to call a tow truck?" I ask, twisting Sheldon's ear until he whimpers.

"Yeah, sure," says Roberto, thumbing at his jeep. "I'm sorry about your car. It's a shame; I live just over that ridge."

I slap Sheldon. "I knew I was going the right way, you big doofus. That's the last time _you _navigate. You must have put in the wrong coordinates."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Sheldon replies, his cheeks flushing. He opens the back left passenger door of the ranger's jeep. Suddenly, he yelps and falls on his butt in the gravel. A large German shepherd bounds from the car, snarling with raised hackles. "Penny, save yourself!" Sheldon cries, shielding his face with his hands.

I recognize the dog's growl.

The dog stops growling to lick Sheldon's ears. "Oh,_ no, no, no_." Sheldon flails his arms around his head to ward off doggy kisses. _"He's sampling me!"_

"_Ahh_, he won't hurt you," says the ranger. "Robby's just protective at first. He was just grumpy 'cause I left him in the car; usually I let him roam."

I decide not to tell Sheldon and the ranger that the dog was probably last night's bear impersonator.

"Won't _hurt_ me?" Sheldon repeats, bewildered. "Oh, you're dearly misinformed, sir. Once one has had a taste of Dr. Sheldon Cooper, there's no going back."

I smirk. Yeah, you can say that again.

xxxxx

_Sheldon_

I was unable to get to the university until well after midday. Fortunately, I wasn't fired. However, my absence was noted by Koothrappali and Wolowitz, and they won't cease their pestering.

Now, at dinner, I eat my Thai food and studiously try to ignore them.

"You _spent the night?" _Koothrappali asks, setting down his beer. "With _Penny? _Dude, you have to give us the details."

"Did you guys do it?" Bernadette squeaks, waggling her eyebrows.

I roll my eyes. "_No_."

"What the frak…?" Wolowitz gapes at me. "You didn't do _anything?_"

"I touched her _şadrs_," I mumble, stabbing at my food with my fork.

"Huh?"

The door to the apartment opens and Penny comes in, looking exhausted. "Hey," she says, dropping onto the couch beside me. "What are we all doing tonight?"

"Well, I know what Sheldon's doing," Wolowitz mutters.

I glare at him.

"Let's play the Mystic Warlords of Kah," says Koothrappali.

"Ka'a," Wolowitz corrects.

"Oh, you know I hate that crap," says Penny, waving the idea away.

I look at her, fighting a smile. "Remarkable."

"What?" she asks me.

"We have something in common."

"Maybe we can make it interesting," says Wolowitz. "What if we play _strip _Mystic Warlords of Ka'a?"

"Howie just wants to get me naked." Bernadette giggles. "He knows I'll lose."

"I like games where you strip," says Penny, suddenly interested. "Sheldon, you _have _to play now."

"No," I say, not even looking at her. "We all know I'll win. Besides, I have no desire to see Wolowitz in the nude."

"Hey," Wolowitz argues. "I'm a better player than you think." He stops, seemingly to meditate on what he's just said, and smirks.

"Hardly," I say. "A _better _idea than stripping would be to put more clothes _on. _So, whenever someone loses a round, they have to put on another article of clothing."

Wolowitz stares at me with dull eyes as Koothrappali asks, "What would that accomplish?"

"Oh, Rajesh." I sigh, exasperated. "Obviously, it's _uncomfortable _to wear several layers. You get all sweaty."

"Sheldon," says Penny. "Why don't you keep your ideas to yourself?"

"Besides," says Koothrappali, taking another swig from his bottle, "I'm used to being hot and sweaty from being in India. It's not a punishment for me."

"You should be on my team," says Penny, tugging on my sleeve. "You're good at this."

"Oh, alright," I say, only because it will bother me if Penny plays a stripping game with other men and without me.

"Yes!" Wolowitz exclaims, shuffling the deck.

The game goes smoothly, aside from the fact that a rule is made which dictates that I'm only allowed to help Penny every other turn. This is unfair, seeing as I have to disrobe whenever Penny screws up.

"The Enchanted Bunny card?" I snap as I peel off my final shirt. "Really, Penny?" At least we're faring better than Bernadette – she's in nothing but her undergarments. Because of this, Wolowitz keeps accusing Koothrappali of peeking at his fiancée.

"Dude, I'm not looking at _her_," replies the little brown man. "I'm looking at _you_."

This is understandable. Wolowitz, his dickey only half-concealing his forest of chest hair, is a sight to behold. It's so disturbing that you just _can't _look away. Additionally, it was humorous to see him struggle to shimmy out of his tight skinny jeans.

"Don't say stuff like that," Wolowitz hisses. "People'll think you're gay."

I already suspect Koothrappali as being a homosexual – he keeps sneaking glances at my bareness as well. Of course, his glances might just be envious in nature. Again, this is completely understandable.

"What does the Necromancer Potion do?" Bernadette asks.

"Oh, _Lord_." Women cannot be trusted to play anything.

"Honey, just put down whatever you think is pretty," says Wolowitz, patting her hand. "I don't expect you to win."

Bernadette glares at him – I can't understand why.

"Sheldon, you're up," Penny says after Wolowitz and Koothrappali go. All she's taken off are her socks and her Cheesecake Factory vest. Why? I'm _so _glad you asked. She's taken off so little because I'm on her team. Feeling resentful that she should avoid humiliation, I place down the Small Rock card.

Bernadette puts down Chaos Overlord, beating us.

"Alright, Penny," says Koothrappali, smirking. "Take off your shirt."

"What?" she asks, looking down at Bernadette's card. She nudges it aside to look at mine. She glares at me.

I feign innocence. _"Oops."_

Her white blouse goes up and over her head. Ah, yes. The infamous cheetah-print bra. I pretend not to look at it.

"I see you looking at me, Sheldon," she says.

"Penny, silence is a satisfactory alternative to not knowing what you're talking about."

"Are we not allowed to look?" asks Koothrappali, frowning. "What's the point of that?"

I continue losing on purpose to punish Penny. Soon, she has to hide herself behind couch cushions. She's so bad at the game, however, that I am also forced to cover myself up. "This is ridiculous," she says. "Stop sabotaging me."

"Penny, you're not the only one naked. _Perhaps_ you should heed your own orders."

"If we outright _lose_, we have to do a naked lap," she snaps.

I clear my throat. "Pardon?"

"Were you not _listening_? Loser has to run a naked lap up and down the stairs. What, did you think we were just stripping for funzies?"

My voice is faint. _"What?"_

Bernadette puts down the final card, which – as I already knew it would be – is the Two-Headed Tiger. Wolowitz whistles. "Game, set, _match._"

We've lost.

I think quickly. "Surely, the _two _of us don't need to run." I turn to face Penny. "That's your cue."

"Oh, no you don't," warns Penny. "We're a team. We're in this together."

"I respectfully refuse," I say.

"Sheldon, be a man and run naked with me down the hall."

I thought yesterday was the worst day of my life. Nay, brethren, _today _is the worst day of my life. This situation makes me miss the bears. Just as I am contemplating suicide, Penny snatches up my hand, and yanks me up off the couch. Abandoning our protective cushions, we streak towards the door. Just as Penny wrenches the door open and a chorus of laughter starts up behind us, we become face-to-face with none other than Barry Kripke.

He stands before his door, key in hand, staring at us. At first, he seems delighted, most likely due to the fact that Penny is the first one into the hallway. However, his gaze lands on me, and his mouth falls open. The only way I can describe his expression is using the words "utterly" and "horrified" together in a sentence.

Finally, he recovers. He shakes his head. "I _weally_ need to move."

xxxxx

**A/N: So, I took a couple of your ideas. Everyone seemed to want them to make out – so I did that, kinda, in the first part. Chylea3784 wanted the ranger to find them, which, oddly enough, is exactly what I planned to do. Kudos for being my mind twin. Ikari no Ojo suggested that I put in a game of strip poker, so that's where strip Mystic Warlords of Ka'a came from – and yes, I know a naked Sheldon is a very OOC Sheldon. (Not gonna stop me from getting him naked). Username native-kitten wanted me to get rid of Kripke, so I hinted at that. (Don't worry, he's not completely gone). Thanks for all of your wonderful ideas. **

**Review.**

**Also, happy Super Bowl Sunday to most of you. **


	21. The Sentence Formulation

_Penny_

It's been a weird day. Sheldon hasn't responded to any of my cute texts – despite his dislike of them, he _always _responds. Who can resist a _Moon Pie xoxo_? Also, I like adding a less-than sign with the number three. Of course, usually, he replies with the following: _Your inequality is invalid, for you have failed to provide the numbers your variables represent. Additionally, don't call me Moon Pie._

But today, my message inbox has been completely void of all texts from Sheldon. So, on my way home from work, I'm completely freaking out. What if Sheldon took the wrong bus home and was mugged by a homeless man? What if he's wandering the streets of Pasadena, lost and alone? Phoneless, moneyless, and starving?

I burst into the apartment. The lights are out, except for the small table lamp. Sheldon sits in his spot, seemingly unbothered by the darkness, with one leg crossed over the other. "I've been waiting for you, Penny," he says, his voice deeper than usual.

It's not what you think – Sheldon's not trying to seduce me or anything. I know this because Raj is also here. He sits in the armchair, looking entirely confused as to what he's doing. I hover at the doorway, wondering if I should just go to my room and call it a day.

"All rise," says Sheldon as he stands up.

Raj doesn't budge.

Sheldon glares at him. "I _said, _'All rise.'"

Raj rolls his eyes, but obediently gets up out of the chair.

"Hear ye, hear ye," Sheldon continues. "The Dr. Sheldon Cooper Court for the District of This Apartment is now in session – the Honorable Judge Dr. Sheldon Cooper is presiding. All having business before this honorable court draw near, give attention, and you shall be heard. You may be seated."

I stare at him.

"I _said_, 'You may be seated.'"

"This is ridiculous," I say.

"Penny," Sheldon warns, "since I was unable to assemble an unbiased jury, your sentence relies entirely on me. I _suggest_ you do as I say."

"What's Raj doing here, then?" I ask.

"He will serve as your lawyer," says Sheldon, "as well as a witness for today's court proceedings."

"Have you built up my defense?" I ask Raj lightly.

He doesn't respond.

"Really?" I ask, turning to look at Sheldon. "You give me a lawyer who can't talk to me?"

"Yes," says Sheldon smugly. "Additionally, I've drained the beer from all of the bottles in the refrigerator. Now, let's begin." He gets off of the couch and stands behind the kitchen counter, which serves as a judge's bench. He even has a mini gavel, which he smacks emphatically against the granite.

I sit down on the couch and exchange glances with Raj. He shrugs apologetically.

"Let's begin with your minor infractions," says Sheldon as he flips through a manila file folder. "Ah, yes. Seven counts of leaving undergarments in the bathroom. Defense?"

"Uh," I say, "can you prove that the 'undergarments' were mine?"

Sheldon looks up sharply. "Excuse me?"

"Didja send my panties off to a lab for DNA testing, Your _Honor_?"

Sheldon holds up a large, high-quality photograph of my cheetah-print bra. "Who said anything about panties, you _criminal_?" he spits. "Do you deny that this belongs to you?"

"I can't be certain," I reply.

He looks at the photograph, and then back at me. "But, I know your measurements."

Raj looks distinctively uncomfortable.

"That may very well be true," I say, shrugging, "but you can't prove that the bra in the photo – _that bra_ – belongs to me. It's not my fault that you didn't collect more condemning evidence."

There's a vein throbbing in Sheldon's forehead. He rips the photo in two. "Fine," he snaps. "Onto the next infraction. Where were you on the first of March, precisely at 7:30 in the morning?"

"Uh…Here? Probably."

"I need a definite answer, delinquent."

"Yes. I was here."

"Can you explain, then, why _these _cereal boxes were rearranged?" He gestures to the line-up of boxes on top of the fridge.

"Sheldon – "

"Judge Dr. Sheldon Cooper."

" – again, you don't have enough proof. You're wasting my time. Unless you've _seen _me do any of these things, I guess I'll get to walk." These are the magic words for an instant Sheldon Cooper angry face.

He makes an angry face.

"The courtroom is waiting, Your Honor," I say, smiling.

"Wh-what about you jumping into the shower with me?" he splutters. "Or driving me into a ditch? Or forcing me to run up and down the stairs naked? I bore witness to each of those incidents."

"_Now_, we're getting somewhere," I say.

"Don't sound so smug," he snaps. "Those are the worst of your infractions."

"Ooh," I say, "I'm so _scawred_." I pretend to bite my nails.

"I warn you not to make a mockery of this courtroom," he says. "Your crimes have been very serious indeed."

"What about you?" I counter. "You didn't reply to any of my texts today! Also, you do _loads _of things that piss me off. Why should I be tried as a criminal when you're just as bad?"

"Penny," he says impatiently, "I was unable to reply to your texts due to the fact that they threatened to compromise this trial. Your lovey-dovey ramblings were clear attempts to persuade me to let you off with a lesser sentence."

"Are you even _listening_ to yourself?"

He ignores me. "In light of these proceedings, the court finds you guilty on all counts of major transgressions. Your sentencing is as follows: a brief suspension of the Relationship Agreement, a week of community service during which you are to drive me to and from work _every _day, even if inconvenient, and finally, you have to get up with me on Saturday mornings to watch _Doctor Who_." He pauses, thinking. "Oh, and you're not allowed to talk."

"Sheldon, that's ridic – "

He smacks his gavel down on the counter. _"Silence."_ He turns to Raj, holding out a pen and a clipboard. "Raj," he says, "sign here to affirm your attendance of today's trial."

He signs the sheet quickly – I get the feeling he just wants to bail. Sure enough, Raj flings the pen onto the counter and makes for the door. He doesn't even look back as he leaves. Sheldon and I are left staring at one another.

"Seriously, you're suspending the Relationship Agreement?" I ask. Then, I shake my head. "What am I saying? Let me rephrase that. _Seriously, _we're taking a break?"

"Your behavior is inexcusable. You knew what you were getting into when you signed the contract – a brief suspension is, quite frankly, generous of me." He gathers up the "trial" papers, avoiding my eyes. "I really didn't want to do this, Penny, but you gave me no choice. _Dura lex sed lex._" He finally looks up at me.

I smirk.

"What's so amusing?" he asks, raising his eyebrows.

"You say the Relationship Agreement is suspended, right?"

"Yes."

"Well," I say, slowly walking around the counter to meet him, "that means I don't have to follow any of the rules _in_ the Relationship Agreement." I trail one of my fingers up his arm.

He stares at my hand blankly. "What's your point?"

I drop my fingers down to his trousers and unbutton them. "It means I can do whatever I want." I look up at him as I undo his zipper.

He grabs my hand to stop me. He's hesitating, I can tell. I'm _so _close to getting what I want. His long, slender fingers are digging into my wrist, his grip way tighter than necessary. He just stands there, frozen, and stares at me. Finally, he leans in close to me. I shudder as his lips brush my ear. After what seems like an hour, he whispers, "The no-talking section of your sentence has now been put into effect."

Then, he releases me, buttons his pants, and exits the kitchen for the living room.

"I hate you so much right now," I tell him. "You have no idea."

He puts a finger to his lips.

"You realize I'm not gonna shut up, right?"

"And _you _realize that the more time you take to make up for your wrongdoings, the longer this – ," he gestures down to his pants, " – stays buttoned and free from your meddling fingers."

I raise my eyebrows. "Is that a promise?"

A rare smile quirks at his mouth, but he doesn't respond.

xxxxx

_Sheldon_

Yes.

xxxxx

**A/N: The long-awaited trial. I just had to. Thanks for your reviews, you guys; they fill me with joy. Let's shoot for 400. **


	22. The Umbrella Utilization

**A/N: Ahh! An author's note at the beginning! Apocalypse. Anyway, (spoiler alert), I decided to take the recent TBBT episode in which Sheldon uses his vacation days to hang out with Amy, and I've morphed it into the following: **

xxxxx

_Sheldon_

Using coitus as a bargaining chip has proven to be very effective indeed; it's extraordinary for me not to have thought of this sooner. Penny has religiously kept quiet for an entire day now. The downside to her silence is the fact that she has taken to using my whiteboard to communicate with me, despite my orders for her never to touch my board. This morning, for example, I awake to find a perfect display of vandalism in the kitchen. On my whiteboard is a crude sketch of a praying mantis with a human face. Additionally, there's a caption below the drawing: _Dr. Sheldon Cooper. _

I look at the picture, and then I look at Penny, who busies herself in fixing my breakfast. "That's offensive," I say.

She turns and provides an elaborate shrug.

"It doesn't even look like me. Do I have hair like that? _No._" I sigh. "Aside from touching my board, I have another grievance."

Penny raises an eyebrow.

I clasp my hands behind my back. "I distinctly remember telling you to serve me breakfast in bed. I woke up seven minutes and twenty-eight seconds ago and just sat there, _in bed_, waiting for you."

She winks.

"Oh, Penny," I say, scowling, "there's no need to be vulgar."

She kisses my cheek and hands me a plate of food. She points to my spot for me to sit down. I obey, setting my plate in my lap.

"I hope you've learned something," I tell her between mouthfuls. "Perhaps, now, you'll know how to keep your behavior in check."

Her smile seems sardonic in nature; I disregard it. Quite frankly, her inability to vocalize her thoughts has been a tranquil experience for me, and not because of the quiet, but because of the guarantee that she'll be unable to fight with me. I do so very much dislike it when people fight. More specifically, I hate fighting with Penny. Regardless of the benefits of her silence, I am abashed to admit I miss hearing her voice, despite her seemingly determined habit of mispronouncing words.

After Penny drives me to work, I am met by President Seibert. He informs me that I haven't used any of my vacation days. He then proceeds to forbid me from coming to work. Is this the respect I get for my brilliant achievements in science? _Forced vacation?_ The nerve of Seibert.

xxxxx

_Penny_

As soon as I pick Sheldon up from work, he instantly begins a rant about how terrible President Seibert is and blah blah blah. But as soon as he mentions _vacation_, I start bouncing up and down in the driver's seat.

"What?" he asks.

I point to my mouth helplessly.

"Oh, al_right_. I grant you the permission to speak."

_"We should go to the beach," _I say in a rush. I can already smell the wet bathing suits and tanning oil.

"No," Sheldon says, annoyed. "You know how I burn."

"Well, _I'm _going to go regardless," I tell him. "There's probably gonna be sharks there too, just so you know. Too bad. If _you _were there, you'd be able to save me from them." Sometimes, I can be so sneaky.

"That's unfair."

"C'mon, we could go to Long Beach and get a hotel. Imagine how much fun we'll have."

"No."

xxxxx

_Sheldon_

Bikinis are remarkable creations.

xxxxx

_Penny_

Yeah, so I've convinced Sheldon to go with me to the beach. He _claims _it's to ward off sharks, but I know the real reason: I showed him the bathing suit I plan to wear. So, I took sick leave for work, and I booked a hotel in Long Beach. Now, we're taking the short drive to the coast for two days of fun in the sun.

Although we're only staying one night in the hotel, Sheldon's packed a week's worth of stuff. He has every type of emergency gear he can think of: a tsunami crisis kit, a stock of urine for jellyfish stings, a pair of binoculars and a whistle for shark sightings, a wind gauge thingy, a variety of beach umbrellas, and so many sunscreen products that my entire car stinks of it.

Sheldon sits in the passenger seat with his arms crossed, staring grumpily ahead. He's already got his shades on in preparation for the sweet, sweet UV rays to come. Also, his red swimming trunks have atom prints stamped all over them.

"Those are cute," I say, glancing at his shorts as I pull off of the road and into a beach parking lot.

"Yes," he says, looking at me from behind his dark sunglasses. "I am aware." He sounds as grumpy as he looks. "And I'm revoking the right for you to speak again."

"Nope," I say, putting the car in park. "We're on vacation. No rules apply here." I unlock my seat belt and lean over to kiss him, but he pulls back to avoid me. "C'mon, Sheldon. Let's have fun."

He says nothing as he climbs out of the car. I pop the trunk and yank out all of the beach umbrellas he's insisted on bringing; they're all gray and gloomy-looking. He takes one of them and opens it so he can walk in shade to the shoreline. He also dons a black cowboy hat that looks a size too big for him.

He refuses to carry the rest of the useless shit he's brought; instead, I carry his stupid emergency gear along with my _own _beach bag as he walks ahead of me, twirling his umbrella above him like a southern belle with a parasol. "Do try to keep up," he calls behind him as I struggle to follow.

He pauses at the edge of the boardwalk where the wood meets the sand. I finally catch up to him, out of breath, and say, "What's….wrong?"

He frowns and angles his face down to the ground. "The sand is dirty." He steps out onto it in his sneakers. "I don't like it."

"Well, that's what the beach chair is for. You don't have to sit in the sand if you don't want to." I stumble out onto the sand and pick my way through a cluster of sunbathers and their slick, orange backs. (That's my kind of tan right there). Then, I dump all of the stuff onto an empty stretch of sand.

"No," says Sheldon. "Not there." He bends over to pick up his wind gauge, and he stabs it into the sand. He squints at the little red flag. "The wind is blowing in from the northwest. We'd do better to set up camp over there." He points to the other side of the sunbathers. "Hence, when the wind picks up, our sweaty little friends will get the full brunt of the kicked-up sand, and we'll be safely shielded by their repulsive bodies."

So, we move to the other side of the sunbathers. I stretch out in my pink bikini across a big purple beach towel, and Sheldon lurks beneath four giant umbrellas in his cowboy hat and shades, refusing to take off his sneakers. Every five minutes, he applies another coating of SPF 85 sunscreen.

"You're not even gonna take your shirt off?" I ask him, resting on my elbows.

"Melanoma is a serious skin condition."

I ignore this. "Could you come over here and rub some tanning oil on my back?"

"You're appalling."

I shrug, drop down onto my stomach, and undo the string to my bikini so I don't get a line on my back when I tan.

"I'm still not going out there," he says defiantly.

Somewhere nearby, there's a child laughing. Sheldon looks up, his face deadpan behind his sunglasses, as a little redhead girl ambles up to him in a frilly, yellow one-piece. She points at the plastic bucket-and-shovel ensemble that Sheldon's brought along. "Can I use that?" she asks; she has dark freckles and missing front teeth.

"No," says Sheldon.

_"Sheldon!"_ I exclaim. To the little girl, I say, "Sure, sweetie. Go ahead."

"This is an outrage," Sheldon mutters, glaring at the little girl as she pulls the bucket into the sand to make a castle. He watches her for a few moments. "She's attempting to build a structure out of dry sand."

I tie my bikini top back on and sit up. "So?"

_"Amateur." _

To my surprise, Sheldon crawls out from beneath his umbrellas to join the little girl in the sand. He kneels down next to her to explain that water will "strengthen the integrity of the sand house."

"It's not a house," says the girl. "It's a castle."

Sheldon does one of his classic breathy laughs. "Amusing," he says to her. "You seem unfamiliar within the field of architecture." He points at the sand that she's patted together. "Not only is your construction _not _a castle, but the insufficient sand mound you've so crudely built seems to somewhat resemble a hobbit hole."

"Like Frodo!" cries the girl, looking up at Sheldon with a big smile.

Sheldon looks at her sternly. Then, he says, "I think this is the start of a successful partnership." He gets to his feet. "I'll get the water." He goes beneath the canopy of umbrellas to pull out three water bottles.

"Oh, _hell _no," I say, scrambling to my feet. "You're _not _using our spring water to build a sand castle."

"Sand _hobbit hole_," he corrects. "And yes, I am."

"Sheldon, there's a goddamn ocean right over there!"

Sheldon turns to squint at the lapping waves. "Oh, yes, look at that."

I wait impatiently.

"Penny, you can't be disillusioned into thinking that I would actually _go over there_, right?" he asks with wide eyes.

"We're at _the beach_. Why wouldn't I think you'd want to get into the water? What happened to saving me from sharks?"

He scoffs. "Penny, that's what the whistle is for – I would alert someone who _likes_ water in the event that you're subject to a shark attack. That's very decent of me considering I hate whistling sounds." He pauses. "But I would whistle for _you_." He turns back to the water bottles. "Do you think three are enough?"

He's being ridiculous. I grab the handle to the plastic bucket, and I snatch up Sheldon's wrist and drag him towards the ocean. He puts up a pretty good fight – he even stars wailing for the lifeguard to come over and save him.

"Shut up, Sheldon," I snap once we get to the water's edge. "Take off your shoes."

"No."

"Take off your shoes, _or so help me God, I'll…_"

He kneels down to take off his shoes and socks. He cringes as his bare, pale toes touch the wet, gritty sand.

"Now, your shirt."

"That's where I draw the line." He purses his lips and crosses his arms. "Who do you think I am? A damn hippy?"

I attack him. His cowboy hat and sunglasses fall to the ground as I pull his shirt up and over his head. I throw it into the ocean; it wades out into the dark blue.

He stands there, bare-chested and open-mouthed. His eyes are livid as he turns to face me. _"That was my Green Lantern t-shirt."_

"You want it so bad? Go get it." I thrust the plastic bucket into his hands. "While you're at it, get some water."

"Penny," he says, now frantic. "I've only ever learned to swim on the internet." He then flops down on the sand like a seal. "I need to practice." He flails his arms and legs at his sides – it looks like he's making a snow angel.

"Green Lantern's getting away," I warn as the waves pull back and suck his shirt under the water.

"Oh, _Lord_," Sheldon cries, jumping to his feet. His chest is covered in wet sand, but he doesn't seem to notice. He splashes into the water. _"In brightest day, in darkest night, no evil shall escape my –_ sweet Jesus, this water's positively _frigid_." He skitters through the waves and pounces on his soaked shirt. His head dips below the water, and I don't see him for a few seconds. Then, he pops up and gasps for breath. He holds his t-shirt high over his head, and it rains salt water down on him.

I clap, impressed. His swimming method is a little weird, though. It's like he's doing the funky chicken in the water; he's all arms and no legs. When he finally gets to the shore, he collapses in the sand, his chest heaving. I sit down next to him and brush back his wet hair. "I'm so proud of you. A little insulted, maybe, but still proud."

"Insulted?" he asks, his eyes closed. I guess he doesn't mind soaking up the sunshine when he's been in freezing water. After all, it's only April.

"Yeah. First, you won't come out of your cave to rub oil on me, but you'll come out to build a sand castle with a little girl. Then, you wouldn't go into the water if a shark was _eating _me, but you'll go in _to save a shirt_."

He opens his eyes and turns his face, resting his cheek on the wet sand. He squints at me. "You're being rather hypocritical, Penny."

I raise my eyebrows.

"If your point is to illustrate my selfishness, perhaps you should employ a little self-reflection. You dragged me here to the beach – a vacation I had no intention in taking. You make me disrobe and take a dip in – what I suspect is – e-coli infested waters. But to what end? Doing things I don't like serves your amusement; it does nothing to satisfy me." He closes his eyes again. "Occasionally, I ponder the reason as to why I continually choose to put up with you."

I blink. As much as I hate to admit it; he's right. My excuse for making him do all of these terrible things is less about getting him out of his comfort zone and more about the shits and giggles.

"Now, if you'll excuse me," he says as he sits up and puts on his cowboy hat and shades, "there's a young damsel waiting for my return and a high-end hobbit hole that needs to be constructed." He takes the bucket and dips it into the water before walking back to the little girl and the sand mound.

I watch him leave. _Occasionally, I ponder the reason as to why I continually choose to put up with you. _Yeah, Sheldon. Why do you?

xxxxx

_Sheldon_

"Listen here, youngling," I tell the small female child. "Moisten your hands with the water, and _then _work with the sand. Imagine that you're making rice balls."

"Like this?" She dumps nearly a liter of water on top of the mound, turning our hobbit hole into the Dead Marshes.

I stare at her. "You're such a destructive little creature, aren't you?" I pause to consider this. "I think I like you."

She grins.

I look past the girl to where Penny rests in the shallows with her back to me. It's quite possible that the high exposure to ultraviolet radiation coupled with my inhalation of sea water has led me to suppose the following: _Sometimes, a little destruction is nice. _

xxxxx

**A/N: The next chapter will be Part II of their vacation. And gosh, you guys were getting so good at reviewing! What happened? **


	23. The Personality Polarization

_Penny_

We get to the Westin Long Beach Hotel around five in the afternoon. Okay, so there are a few things about the hotel that I haven't told Sheldon: 1. I booked one room. 2. The room is expensive. 3. There's only one bed.

I personally made sure to pick a fancy hotel where it would be difficult to change the reservations. That way, Sheldon wouldn't be able to worm out of sharing a bed with me. Luckily, he didn't ask me about the hotel when I made the reservations on the phone at home.

"Name?" the suited man behind the front desk asks.

"I believe our reservation is under Cooper," I say, trying to peek at the man's computer. He pushes the screen away so I can't see. Ass.

"Ah, yes," says the man. "Everything's in order. Your card?"

"Sheldon, give me your Visa." I hold my hand out to him.

"Excuse me, but why do I have to pay?"

"I'm maxed out," I say, scrunching up my lips.

"You have more than one credit card, Penny," Sheldon says.

"Yeah. They're all maxed out. Besides, I made the reservations under your card."

"How did you – ?"

I cut him off. "Picked your pocket when you weren't looking."

He scowls at me as he hands me his wallet. After the desk man swipes the card, he hands it over along with our room keys. "Room 827."

We walk to the elevators, and Sheldon instantly starts chattering off about something or the other. "I was hoping I'd get 826. 826 is an interesting number in that it is a 41-gonal number, a 139-gonal number, and a centered 15-gonal number. Really, there's nothing that interesting about 827, aside from the fact that it's a large prime number. Also, the element Mendelevium has a melting point of 827 degrees Celsius. But that's about it." He pauses, thinking, as I push the button for the eighth floor. Then, he exclaims, "Hey! Why is there only one room?"

"To save money."

"You mean to save _my _money?"

"Yeah." The doors slide open, and we step out onto the eighth floor. I read the numbers on the doors until we get to 827. I unlock it and push it open. Sheldon follows me into the room, and I switch on the light. He freezes as soon as he lays eyes on the bed. The _only_ bed.

I sit down on the edge of the bed. "So, what do you think?"

"I should have suspected you to pull a malicious stunt such as this," he says, taking off his sunglasses. His cheeks are pink.

"Are you _blushing_, Dr. Cooper?"

He removes his cowboy hat. "I don't blush, Penny. Blushing is a sign of weakness."

"Then why's your face all red?" I smirk.

He steps into the bathroom to peer into the mirror. He yelps.

"What's wrong?"

_"Dear Lord, I have a sunburn."_ He rushes out of the bathroom, flapping his arms frantically, and I can see that he's being truthful. Only, it_ looks_ like his face is caught in a permanent blush.

"Calm down," I say. "Didn't you bring aloe?"

"Of course I did. That's not the point." He clutches his throat and makes a hacking sound. "I think I have sun poisoning."

I roll my eyes and go to the window to see how high up we are. "Hey," I say, "we've got a pretty good view of the parking lot. Come look."

"Do you take me for a fool, Penny?" he asks. "You just want me to faint so that you can take advantage of me. Sexually."

"I know what it means to take advantage of someone, Sheldon," I snap.

He looks at me. "You would_._ Tramp."

I resist another eye roll as he peels back the sheets and climbs into the bed. He pulls the covers up to his chin. "I don't feel well at all," he says.

"Are you sure you're not just trying to get out of me taking advantage of you?" I ask.

He narrows his eyes. "I knew it." He rolls away from me. "I hope you thought to bring that lip gloss of yours – not only am I sunburned, but my lips are chapped as well." He sighs. "Penny? Sing me 'Soft Kitty.'"

"That's only for when you're sick," I argue.

"Sunburned and chapped is a _kind _of sick."

xxxxx

_Sheldon _

Penny's looking at me in a way that I've come to identify – and pardon my frankness – as horniness. She dips her chin down and looks at me from beneath her lashes, approaching me in a manner akin to that of a feral cat. As much as her libido frightens me, I know that she cannot help herself. What woman can resist an intelligent and abnormally attractive man such as myself?

"Penny," I say as she seductively crawls onto my bed, "think of the choices you are making." I pull my covers up even higher – if that is possible – to shield myself.

"I don't know what you mean," she says, her eyes alight with pseudo innocence. "I'm just coming over to sing 'Soft Kitty.'"

"Oh?" I question, skeptical. "Does singing 'Soft Kitty' require the removal of your shirt?" To those who are befuddled by this pointed inquiry, the answer is _yes_; her top has mysteriously evaporated.

She sits on top of me, pinning my arms down beneath the blankets. I'm trapped. _"Soft kitty, warm kitty…"_ She kisses my neck. _"Little ball of fur…"_

"Actually," I say, "I'm feeling a lot better. No need to continue." Despite my strident protests, she carries on. In fact, she does this remarkable thing involving the swiveling of her hips in which she – _oh, dear Lord._ "Penny!" I exclaim. "That was terribly uncouth."

She looks up. "Oh, sweetie, I can _show you_ uncouth." She then proceeds to show me 'uncouth' by ripping back my covers and attacking me like a monstrous beast. Although I am, indeed, rolling about with her on the mattress, I am by no means a participant in this seemingly amorous activity. Nay, spectators, I am naught but a victim of the vicious violation of my virginity.

If at all during this romp amongst the pillows that I somehow manage to misplace my clothes, I am not to be blamed. In fact, my lack of clothing is merely evidence of my sun poisoning – often enough, when one is exposed to high amounts of ultraviolet radiation, one can experience terrible fevers. As I would extremely dislike smoldering to death from the heat of my own clothes, it is only necessary that I should remove them. Oh, and her clothing. The rest of her clothing must also be removed to prevent needless fabric warmth. Obviously.

In our battle – yes, a battle that I seem to be winning – I manage to restrain her beneath my lips. I say "my lips" because they serve as an excellent weapon to keep Penny complacent. Just as anticipated, she stills. Her mouth moves against mine and – no doubt, due to the fever – I close my eyes.

Penny, however, is a master of trickery and deceit. Using her mouth as a distraction, she runs her hands all the way down my chest to my – _"Penny!"_ I gasp and pull away from her. "_Most_ uncouth, indeed."

She smirks.

I go on, "I don't know where your hands have been."

Her smirk morphs into a scowl. "If you don't want me to touch it with my hands, then put it _somewhere _so I don't have to."

"Where?"

"Sweetie, you _really _need to read the book we got you."

"May I make a stab in the dark as to what I should do?" I question.

She snorts. "Stab away."

"_Al_right," I say. "Perhaps if I just – "

A phone rings.

xxxxx

_Penny_

Sheldon frowns. "Is that mine, or yours?"

"Mine, I think," I say. "Just ignore it. Now what were you about to say? If you just what?"

Sheldon stares at me. "Aren't you going to answer it?"

"No, I'll call 'em back. It's fine."

"You'll call them ba – Oh, Penny. That's unacceptable. Answer your phone." Sheldon pulls away from me to cross the room and retrieve my cell phone. He hands it to me and sits down on the edge of the bed, draping a sheet over his lap.

"This is ridiculous," I mutter, looking at my phone. It's Leonard. _Of fucking course._ "Hello?" I answer.

"Hi," says Leonard. "I've been trying to call the landline for the past few hours. You not being there, I understand. But Sheldon? What are you two up to?"

"Sheldon is with Amy," I quickly lie; Sheldon looks at me sharply. "Yeah, they're trying to renew their relationship or something. I wouldn't bother him."

"Oh," says Leonard. "Well that's great. Good for Sheldon. What about you?"

"I just got off work. Heading home. Nothing too exciting." Yeah, nothing as exciting as _finally _having sex with Sheldon. No, you're not interrupting anything, Leonard. I just hate you, that's all. No big deal.

"Alright, well there's something I've been meaning to talk to you about. I know the phone is much more impersonal than talking to you in person, but the last time I wanted to tell you, Sheldon said it wasn't a good idea, and so I thought maybe I shouldn't, but now…I don't know."

"Leonard, you're rambling."

"Right. Sorry. I want to get back together with you." There's a long pause on the other end. "There, I've said it. What do you think?"

"Leonard…"

"I know what you're thinking: if it didn't work before, why should it work out again? I'm changed. I can avoid the mistakes we've made in the past. My mother having cancer has just made me realize how precious life really is, and, honestly, I would hate to end up like her and alone in a hospital bed."

"You talked to Sheldon about this?" I ask, turning to look at Sheldon; he sits, frozen, on the edge of the bed. He doesn't look at me.

"Yeah. He told me not to get back together with you. He said you were dating some tall, brilliant, and attractive guy…"

"Oh, _did he?_" I glare at Sheldon. "Listen, Leonard, I know this is important to you, which is why I really think we should discuss this in person. When you get home, we can have a long chat. I'm not saying anything either way, but we both need to consider everything beforehand."

"I thought you might say that," Leonard says, sounding glum. "For once, I should have listened to Sheldon."

"No," I say sharply. "_Sheldon _needs to learn not to stick his ugly nose in other people's business." Sheldon's head snaps towards me; he opens his mouth to argue. I hold up a finger to shut him up. To Leonard, I say, "Listen, I have to go, but I promise we'll talk about this when you get home."

"Okay, Penny. See you soon." The line clicks.

I slowly turn to Sheldon.

"I don't understand why you're angry," Sheldon says quickly.

"You don't understand why I'm _angry_?"

"I _told_ you that I informed Leonard of you having a current lover." He crosses his arms.

"Yeah, but you never told me Leonard _wanted to get back together with me_." I slap him right on his sunburn. He yelps and attempts to cover his face. "Why wouldn't you tell me something like that?" I ask.

I expect Sheldon to give me some ridiculous excuse like he always does. Instead, he stands up, clutching the sheet around his waist, and says, "Penny, _why do you think?_"

"I don't know!" I search the hotel room for my clothes, putting them on as I find them. "You never talk to me about anything important, so how am I supposed to know what you're thinking?"

"Important?" he questions. "Penny, the peak of your conversational capability consists of telling me the sale prices of Steve Madden boots _at the mall_. On a normal day, I wouldn't know who this Steve Madden character is at all. You think I revel in keeping such useless information in this brilliant – "

" – 187 I.Q. brain of yours?" I finish for him. "And that's all _you_ talk about. 'Look at me, I'm Dr. Sheldon Cooper. I'm the smartest little dude around. Blah blah blah space blah blah blah science.'"

"I don't talk like that," he says quietly.

"Yeah, and I don't always talk about shopping." I lower my voice. "I told you that I _love _you. You know how hard that is for me?"

"Those are just words, Penny," he argues. He points to his bare skin. "I don't think you can comprehend how difficult _this_ is for _me_." To prove his point, he puts his swimming trunks back on.

"If they're just _words_, then why don't you say 'em?" I jut my chin out.

He falls silent, and just looks at me.

"You wanna know why you won't say 'em?" I prompt. "Because you're a horrible liar."

xxxxx

_Sheldon_

How can I – without seeming tasteless and maudlin – explain my affection towards Penny? "Love" is such a trivial word. I love a lot of things. For example, I love trains, I love monkeys, and, above all, I love my Meemaw. But my fondness towards trains, monkeys, and Meemaw is not the same brand of warmth that I direct at Penny. I care for Penny despite the fact that she can't operate on metal tracks or peel bananas with her feet or make heavenly snickerdoodles. But how can I translate this feeling into something Penny is capable of understanding? Any metaphor I am able to come up with would be lost on her. How can I explain our supersymmetry? That she is the boson to my fermion? That despite our polarizing personalities, and despite the fact that I pretend otherwise, I see her on equal ground? How can I tell her _without telling her_ all of these things?

She stands at the foot of the bed, her shoulders hunched and her mouth a downward slash in her face. I approach her, cupping her face in my hands, and say, "When regarding women – or, more specifically, you – I seem to fall flat. Pardon my maladroitness, Penny; it's not premeditated." I pause, tilting my head at her. "I'm _trying_ to improve." And with that, I close the space between us to kiss her angry mouth.

xxxxx

**A/N: Happy Valentine's Day, everyone! Hope everyone has a hot date tonight. Lol, I decided to update two days in a row just so you guys could get a treat on Feb. 14. Yeah, I know this chapter was cheesy, but it was intentionally cheesy. Don't worry about it. Review! Pretty please with Sheldon on top? **


	24. The Bestie Turbulence

_Sheldon _

Penny hands me a square of bamboo print wallpaper from the sample swatches at The Home Depot. Why anyone would want to decorate the walls of their room to emit the illusion of Asian forestry is a complete mystery to me – panda bears are vicious creatures.

"I thought we were here for paint," I say, handing back the square. "Let us not get carried away." Leonard returns home in a week, and Penny has to paint over food stains on the walls of his bedroom, which is why we're visiting The Home Depot. And yes, you read that correctly. _Food stains._ The woman is an animal.

"We _are _here for paint. But, I'm trying to get ideas about how I'm gonna deck out my new apartment for when I move."

I look up sharply, raising my eyebrows. "_New_ apartment?" I question.

"Oh, sweetie," she says, lowering the swatches and looking at me in a way that one might look at a wounded kitten. "I know you had your heart set on kicking Kripke out of the building, but c'mon. The guy's about as stubborn as you are."

"So you're _moving_? As in moving to a separate complex?" I frown. "But why? Leonard can sleep on the couch. I can have that arranged, you know." I attempt to appear menacing.

"Sheldon, c'mon," she says, giving me The Look. "Besides, I've already started looking at apartments in the paper."

"Oh, I see." I clasp my hands behind my back and abandon her for another aisle in the store. I look at the items on the shelves as I pass. Fat paint brushes. Skinny paint brushes. _She's already commenced apartment-hunting? Without consulting me? The nerve._ Paint rollers. _How can she present this disturbing news with such nonchalance? _Buckets. _I ought to lend her a piece of my brilliant intellect on the matter. _Red Paint. _I'll show her. _

I arrive at the end of the aisle; my fists are balled at my sides, and I find myself to be seething. Fascinating. I uncurl my fingers and flex them in front of my nose. Anger is such an interesting emotion. True, anger is probably the one emotion I experience frequently on a daily basis, especially when Penny is in close proximity, but never before have I felt so angry so suddenly without so much as a howdy-do.

Penny moving out is a perfectly valid solution for three people living in a two-bedroom apartment. Perhaps my anger stems more from the fact that I'll notice her absence. I sigh, gifting The Home Depot with my DNA-accented carbon dioxide. I should talk to Penny.

I find her at the paint-mixing station where she's showing one of the employees a square card of the color paint she wants.

"You, uh, want me to mix that up for ya?" the man behind the high counter asks, leaning on his elbows.

"That'd be great," says Penny.

"Yeah? You'd like that, huh?" He smiles at her.

She steps away from him with a strange expression. She looks to me for help, though I'm unsure as to why. I approach her slowly and stand behind her at the counter.

"I'll be right with you, sir," he says to me.

"Alright," I say, confused. Perhaps the employee doesn't realize that Penny and I are at the store together.

"You wanna come watch me do it?" the man asks Penny.

"Do what?"

"Mix it up real nice."

Penny looks at me. Out of the side of her mouth, she mutters, "Do something."

"I'm not going to mix the paint," I say, flabbergasted. "This man's a professional. I'm sure he's quite capable of doing it himself."

"Oh, I'm very capable," the man says. "Now, darlin', why don't you come 'round here with me, and I'll show you how it's done."

"I'm fine, thanks," I say.

The man gives me a quizzical look.

"He's talking to me," says Penny.

"_Oh," _I say. "How embarrassing."

She looks at me questioningly.

"Well, Penny, you don't have to ask _my_ permission. Lord knows you never do anyway. By all means, watch the man play with his paint." I gesture to the employee.

"By _all _means," the man repeats, grinning.

"We're leaving," says Penny, grabbing my arm and dragging me towards the automatic doors.

"But, Penny, we didn't get the paint!" I exclaim, stumbling after her. To the employee, I say, "I guess she's not interested. Thank you for your time." He just stares at me. _People these days_.

Before we leave the parking lot, Penny just sits in the car, gripping the steering wheel. She glares at me. "I know you're upset about me moving, but that was really uncalled for."

"Pardon?" I feel as if I'm trapped inside of an anime without the dubs or subtitles. Nothing seems to be making sense.

"You could have saved me back there!"

When I still continue to stare at her, she adds, "That dude was being a super creep! He was hitting on me."

"Oh." I frown. "Should I go back there?"

"No, Sheldon. Let's just go home."

Interesting. I've learned something new today (and from Penny for that matter): When one hits on another in a creepy manner, the other usually flees. I shall keep this in mind for later.

xxxxx

_Penny_

There's a week until Leonard comes back. I keep getting more and more nervous about him finding out about me and Sheldon. On top of that, Amy wants to hang out with me tonight, and Sheldon's upset about me moving, and all I want to do is go home and hide in my bed.

xxxxx

_Sheldon_

Penny's gone to eat dinner with Amy. I'm sure they're going to have an extensive conversation about me and how attractive and/or brilliant I am. That's satisfactory. However, I find myself, once again, alone for dinner. Pity.

I spring up from the couch. Perhaps I can now get something accomplished. I exit the apartment and cross the hall to Kripke's door. I take a deep breath. Be creepy and the world shall flee before you.

_Knock, knock, knock._

"Kripke."

_Knock, knock, knock._

"Kripke."

_Knock, knock, knock._

"Kripke."

He opens the door and frowns at me. "Coopehw?"

I lean against the doorframe and muster up my best sexy expression. "Why hello there, Kri –," I begin before correcting myself, " – Barry." I force myself to smile; it pains me to do so. "How are you?"

"Fine," he says, narrowing his eyes at me. "What do you want?"

I reach out my index finger to seductively stroke his shoulder, but then I stop myself, thinking better of it. _No, I really should._ I stroke his shoulder. "I think you know what I want, _Barry_."

He stares at me. "Awe you dwunk?" he asks.

"Yes," I say softly. "Drunk on _love_."

Kripke shifts from one foot to the other. His expression of pure bewilderment, however, does not change. "Say what?"

"Barry, don't think I haven't noticed."

"Noticed what? What awe you tawking about?"

I run my fingers through my hair. "You. I observe your habits through my peephole, you know. I see how you'll often stand before your door several sexy seconds too long…just waiting. Waiting for what? I'm so glad you asked, Barry. For me. You just _love_ it when I burst out of my apartment to harass you. Well, Barry, I can't keep it inside much longer."

"Pwease, fow the wuv of God, keep it inside."

"What are you doing tonight?" I ask. "The old hag's out, and I have the apartment to myself."

"Yep," says Kripke. "Okay. You win. Definitewy moving." He slams the door in my face, leaving me to my silent triumph.

I cannot resist an unorthodox fist pump, which I exhibit by thrusting my curled fingers into the air and back down beneath my chin. Praise Jesus, as my mother would say. If I was unable to receive results from unabashedly hitting on Kripke, I'm not sure what I would have done. Even worse, what would I have done if Kripke had reciprocated my affections? Good Lord, I best not think about that.

I need to call Penny to tell her this joyous news.

xxxxx

_Penny_

"Sorry, Amy," I say, "someone's calling me." I look at my phone. _Sheldon? _I smile. He rarely calls me. "Hello?" I answer.

"Ding, dong, the ugly plasma physicist who lives across the hall is dead."

_"What? _Oh my god, that's _terrible_."

"Not _literally _dead," says Sheldon flatly. "Really, Penny, do try to keep up. He's moving out. You can get your old apartment back!"

"What?" I ask. "How?"

"I flirted with him, and he rejected my advances," Sheldon replies.

_"What?"_

"Indeed," says Sheldon knowingly, "I can't imagine anyone rejecting me."

"We're definitely gonna talk about this," I say, laughing, "but later. Is that okay? I'm right in the middle of something."

Sheldon sounds disappointed. "Well, alright. Good evening, Penny." He hangs up.

I look up at Amy. "Sorry about that; it was – "

"Sheldon," Amy finishes. She looks at me with a sad sort of humor. "You're dating him, aren't you?"

My ears buzz. I don't know where to look. "How did you…?"

"A female's intuition is rarely faulty," she says.

"Are you upset?" I ask. Amy certainly doesn't look upset. But, she has a way of being upset without appearing upset. "This sucks. We hang out for the first time in forever and you have to find _this _out."

"Actually, that's why I've come here tonight. I was suspicious, and I was hoping you'd openly admit it to me. It disturbs me less that you're dating him and more that you would keep it from me. That is not the typical behavior of a true bestie."

"I'm so sorry," I say. I feel terrible. Really, I do. "Leonard doesn't know either. It's not that we're keeping it from you two, it's just that we didn't know how to tell you."

"It's often difficult to own up to one's betrayal."

"Amy…"

"He's not even your type, Penny," she says.

I frown. "Meaning what?"

She looks at me with a raised eyebrow. "I think you know."

"What, because I'm too stupid for him?" I gape at her. "Really? Besties don't call each other stupid, you know."

"They also don't steal each other's boyfriends and then lie about it." She stands up, silent and furious.

"It's not like I meant for this to happen," I say, getting out of my chair. "Neither of us meant for it to."

"Hmm," she says, tilting her head. "When you have this conversation with Leonard, I suggest you say that differently. Because it isn't working for me."

"Amy, I'm _sorry_." I try to grab her hand, but she shrugs away from me and heads towards her apartment door. She opens it to reveal the hallway, and she looks down at the floor.

"I think you should leave," she says.

I don't know what else to do besides pick up my purse and walk out of her apartment. "I'm really sorry," I tell her. "We can talk about this more when you've cooled off."

Out in the hallway, just before she shuts the door, Amy says, "Do you want to know how I was sure you two were together?"

I turn to look at her.

She laughs bitterly. "The expression on your face when you realized it was Sheldon calling." She slams the door.

xxxxx

_Sheldon_

_Kripke is leaving. Sheldon is awesome. Kripke is leaving. La la la la laaaa. _

If I had been born a being inclined to dance, I would do so now. Oh, happy day. I'm so pleased with myself that, should the scenario arise, I would not decline Penny's sexual advances. Lord, I cannot _wait_ until she returns.

xxxxx

**A/N: Shortish chapter. Don't care. Review. **


	25. The Hot Beverage Initiation

_Sheldon_

Once, when I was a child, I was watching television at Meemaw's house, and I stumbled across a romantic comedy film playing on some ludicrous channel for menstruating females. In the movie – and fear not, I changed the channel before I was able to discover the name of the film – there was a man who seemed to think littering rose petals on a perfectly good carpet was a valid way to seduce a woman. As tempting as a darn-tooting, good ole flower allergy arousal sounds – hint: sarcasm – I find that I am partial to finding an alternative mode to seducing Penny. Any objective person of the female persuasion might suggest that I remove all of my clothing and wait for her in an artful pose upon the couch. The thought _has _crossed my mind. However, I'm far too classy for such waywardness. Perhaps I can just "turn her on," as they say, by dazzling her with my intellect.

I sit in my spot, waiting for Penny to return, and practice what I might say in my head. Perhaps I should quote Albert Einstein or Blaise Pascal or Leon Cooper at her. Their words, in my mind, are akin to those of poetry. Perhaps I could sing her a song about String Theory or paint her a diagram of the diesel engine of a train or – Ooh, I've received a text message.

I retrieve my cell phone from my pocket; there's a message from Amy Farrah Fowler. It reads as follows: _I hope you're happy. _

What a thoughtful message – although, it seems completely out of character for Amy Farrah Fowler in that it's both sentimental and clairvoyant. I send her a quick response: _Thank you. _

She doesn't reply back. Odd.

The door opens, and Penny walks in looking forlorn.

I sigh, rising from the couch. I suppose it isn't the best time to turn on Mr. Sex; rather, now is the time for me to morph into Socially Obligated Sheldon. "Coffee or tea?" I question.

She frowns at me, dropping her purse on the coffee table. "What?"

I'm already in the kitchen, bustling about to find a mug. "You appear to be in dire need of a hot beverage."

"No, thanks," she says, sinking down onto the couch.

I pause, craning my neck to look at her. "Penny, I have no choice. Coffee or _tea_?"

"Fine. Tea, I guess."

"So," I say nonchalantly as put the kettle on the stove, "what's the – as you put it – word, hummingbird?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Unacceptable," I say, unfolding a teabag. "You're required to tell me."

_"Required?" _

I look at her sternly. "Don't make me put something in your tea."

She sighs and beckons me towards the couch with a halfhearted finger wave. "Come here."

I kindly obey and sit down beside her.

She rests her head upon my shoulder. "Things didn't go good with Amy."

"Oh, Penny, that's terrible," I say, frowning. "You know the proper word is _well_, not _good._"

_"Sheldon," _she chastises.

"Al_right_," I say ruefully. _"Sorry._ Tell me what happened."

She tells me all about the events that have transpired from the time she abandoned me for alternative dinner plans until the point where she returned home. "I just…I don't know what to do," she says, burrowing her face deep in my ticklish armpit, making me giggle. She glares at me, clearly under the illusion that I'm not taking her seriously, which – you know – I'm not.

"Penny, there's no need to be alarmed," I say. "Amy Farrah Fowler, as complex as her mind may seem, is as simple as any other female."

Penny continues to glare at me.

"Meaning," I elaborate, "that achieving her forgiveness is as effortless as a trip to the jewelry store."

"I'm not getting her a second tiara!" she snaps.

_"Fine."_

"Actually," she says, "I was kinda hoping _you _would talk to her."

The kettle whistles, making us both jump. The annoying whistling sound coupled with the ridiculous suggestion that _I _should talk to an angry Amy Farrah Fowler has put quite the damper on my mood. Quite the damper, indeed.

"Penny," I say, rising to fix her tea, "I know how you _women_ work. I know that the moment I pass through Amy Farrah Fowler's apartment door, there will be a gang of wild, wronged females waiting to ambush me with rolled-up newspapers."

"A gang?"

"Oh, yes," I say seriously. "Everywhere I go, I leave a trail of broken hearts in my wake." I sigh as I steep Penny's tea. "Oh, the woes of being so charming."

"Well, then, there you go. Charm Amy into forgiving us."

"Oh, no," I say. "I can't do that."

An hour later, I find myself standing before Amy Farrah Fowler's door. I knock thrice, say her name, and repeat. _This is ridiculous, _I think to myself. _I should _not_ be here._

"What do you want, Sheldon?" Amy asks with an Eeyore face when she finally takes it upon herself to answer the door.

"Permission to enter?" I mumble, looking at my feet.

"Permission _denied_."

I glance up and give her a berating look, to which she responds with thinned-out lips. "Fine," she finally says, stepping aside to allow me to pass through the doorway.

xxxxx

_Penny_

After I drop Sheldon off at Amy's, I return home. I told Sheldon that I will pick him back up when he calls me, but he's not allowed to call me until he's talked everything through with Amy. On my way up the stairs, I see Barry Kripke at his door. Despite the dude's total foulness, I figure the decent thing for me to do, as a neighbor, is to stop and say hi.

"Hi, Barry," I say, fumbling for my keys.

He's in the process of locking his own door. "Hewwo, Woxanne," he says with indifference as he makes for the stairs.

"I hear you're moving," I add, which makes him stop on the top step. "That's too bad."

"Yeah, wewl," he says, turning towards me, "seeing another man naked, and then having that same man hit on you wiwl have that effect."

"So, when are you moving?"

Kripke shrugs and starts down the stairs. "As soon as I can find a new apawtment."

"Good luck!" I call after him.

Sweet, so I'm _this _close to getting my old apartment back. Part of me is really going to miss living with Sheldon, but, really, moving across the hall won't be that different. In fact, we probably won't fight as much once I'm back in my own place with my own rules about what temperature to keep the thermostat at, or which TV channels can be watched and when, or how cereal boxes should and should not be arranged…

I shake my head as I unlock the door to go inside.

I'll miss it. All of it.

xxxxx

_Sheldon_

I make myself comfortable on Amy Farrah Fowler's sofa. "I suppose this conversation is long overdue," I say.

"Which conversation?" she asks dully. "Do you mean the one where you confess that you dumped me for my best friend? Or the one where you admit that you forced her to lie to me about it?"

_"Excuse me,"_ I say, highly affronted. "I have some objections to those accusations. For one, I did _not_ dump you. Our decision to terminate our relationship was mutual. Secondly, my decision to _partake_ in the mutual decision of relationship termination had absolutely _nothing_ to do with Penny." I dig my fingernails into the skin of my palms to prevent myself from twitching. "And _thirdly_, you think _I _was the one to advocate this sneaking around hokum?" I scoff at her. "Everyone knows I despise secrets."

"If you didn't break up with me for Penny, then why did you?" she asks.

I artfully arrange my face into an expression of profound disgust. "Do you wish for me to provide you with insight into my…_feelings?_" I spit the word out as if it's poison on my tongue.

"I believe you owe me as much," she replies smoothly.

"Fine," I say. I take in a dose of oxygen and think for a moment. I begin slowly. "I felt that we – as in you and I – were no longer compatible mates. Of course, this feeling did not reflect your character in any manner. My complaint, merely, was to the relationship itself. There was something off about it, I suppose." I frown. "I was under the assumption that you felt the same way."

"I did," she says, "but you must understand that I cannot help but feel slighted in that your instant reaction to our break-up was to fling yourself into the arms of my bestie."

"I understand," I say, hesitating. _Charm her_. I sigh and bow my head in lament. "I wish things could have worked between us, and I must admit that my rash involvement with Penny was rather ruthless of me. For that, I am deeply and inexplicably sorry."

I peek up at her and see that her facial features have softened. I quickly look back down into my lap.

"Do you mean that?" Amy Farrah Fowler asks.

I force myself look up at her once more.

"Yes," I lie.

xxxxx

**A/N: Sorry that my updates have been slower/shorter than usual – I've got midterms and all that good stuff going on. Spring break is on the horizon, though, so I'll be better at updating then. Also, as I'm posting this, I see that I've got roughly 270 alerts for this story. This means, in a perfect world, I should be getting at least 270 REVIEWS PER CHAPTER. If you're not reviewing, no words can express the depths to which I loathe thee. Hmph. Please review. **


	26. The Tweed Anomaly

_Penny_

Today is the day that Leonard comes home, or "Doomsday," as Sheldon likes to call it. Sheldon, Raj, Howard, Bernadette, Amy, and I stand in the front lobby of the LAX airport, waiting for Leonard to arrive. Although Amy is still upset about the whole Sheldon ordeal, she stands along with us, holding up a "Welcome Home" sign.

Sheldon takes his own sign out of his messenger bag – it's a black poster board folded in half. He unfolds it, and across the poster in sparkly red letters is the following: "GO BACK TO NEW JERSEY."

_"Sheldon!" _I exclaim, trying to bat the poster out of his hands.

"I didn't want to lie and say 'welcome home' like the rest of those brownnosing sycophants," says Sheldon, nodding at the others. He holds the poster over my head where I can't reach it.

I tickle him until he drops it – when he does, I pick up the sign and rip it in half.

Sheldon scowls. "Fine," he says. He reaches into his bag again, pulling out another black sign. He holds it up: "I DIDN'T MISS YOU."

Instead of reaching for the sign, I reach for his bag. Inside, there are three more signs. I unfold them before ripping each in half: "I HOPE YOUR LUGGAGE IS MISSING" and "OH, YOUR PLANE DIDN'T CRASH? TOO BAD." The final sign doesn't have any words – it's just a painting of a hand holding up the middle finger.

"I worked hard on those," Sheldon complains as I shove the ripped posters into a nearby trashcan. "I spent my whole work day coming up with those witticisms."

"They're _mean_," I tell him. "You're not mad at Leonard, so stop pretending like you are. You're just feeling guilty."

"If I felt guilty," says Sheldon, "I'd make _nice _signs to make up for my treachery."

"Ha! You said 'treachery.' That means you feel guilty."

"No, I – "

"Look! There's Leonard!" I say, interrupting him. I point into the crowd of people flooding into the lobby from the different gates.

Sheldon makes a yelping sound and dives behind the garbage can, abandoning his only still-intact sign. He hugs the can, pressing his face against it for comfort, and closes his eyes. I laugh. I hadn't actually seen Leonard; I just wanted to prove that Sheldon's totally feeling guilty.

"See?" I say. "You feel so guilty that you'd rather hug an airport trashcan – which probably has a gazillion germs on it, by the way – than face Leonard. _Guilty._" I cross my arms.

Sheldon seems to realize what he's doing because he springs up from the trashcan and begins bathing himself with the travel-sized bottle of hand sanitizer he keeps in his pocket. He even scrubs his face with it. "Oh, my _eyes_," he cries, rubbing his eyes as if he thinks hand sanitizer will _remove_ hand sanitizer. He finally lowers his hands – his eyes are red-rimmed, enflamed, and full of tears.

"Aw, Sheldon," says a familiar voice. "I didn't realize you missed me so much."

I spin around to see Leonard coming towards us with his overnight bag slung over his shoulder and a rolling suitcase dragging behind him. He pulls me into a one-armed hug. My heart thuds in my throat, and I'm scared that he can feel it pounding against him. He releases me and moves on to the rest of the crew. He hugs Amy, Bernadette, Howard, and Raj. When he gets to Sheldon, Sheldon looks as if he might run for it.

"Missed you, buddy," says Leonard, hugging Sheldon's middle.

Sheldon doesn't seem to know what to do. He awkwardly pats Leonard's back. "Buddy," Sheldon repeats, unsure.

"Jeez, it's great to be back for good," Leonard sighs, draping one arm around me and placing his other hand on Sheldon's shoulder. Sheldon visibly tenses. "I'm so glad you all came to greet me."

"Yeah," says Howard, "I skipped important astronaut business for this."

"He was practicing his butt clenches," squeaks Bernadette.

"I need to look good in my space suit," Howard mutters defensively.

"I, additionally, skipped significant job-related business," Amy says to Leonard. "My cocaine-addicted monkeys won't take kindly to my absence. However, as your friend, I felt that this was more important." She looks at Sheldon and me pointedly. "Friends support one another."

Is this a jab at me for betraying her, or is she accepting my relationship with Sheldon? I look at her face, but she gives away nothing. _Friends support one another. _Is she supporting me? God, why can't people just say what they really mean? Even smarty-pants Sheldon wouldn't be able to decipher such a code. Speaking of which, I glance at Sheldon. Sweat runs down his cheeks from his temples. His hair is plastered to his head, and he looks as if he might faint or, worse, fall dead at any given moment. I reach my arm out behind Leonard to squeeze Sheldon's hand comfortingly; this seems to make Sheldon look, if possible, paler. His hand, too, is slick with sweat.

_Poor Sheldon_, I think.

xxxxx

_Sheldon_

Leonard's on to me. I'm sure of it.

My heart rate is elevated to the point where it must certainly be audible to all human beings within a kilometer radius, including Leonard. During the time it takes for us to travel from the airport lobby to the cars, the only plan I've managed to construct to remedy my dilemma is the following: insult Penny to the point where she breaks down and Leonard becomes certain that I have no romantic feelings for her.

Raj and Penny's cars are parked in a remote section of the parking lot. Once we reach the cars, Penny unlocks hers and goes to open the back passenger door for Leonard and me. "Thank you," I say, already forgetting my plan. Realizing my blunder, I quickly add, "Whore."

Leonard gives me a scrutinizing look by tilting his head down to peer at me over his glasses. "Problem, Sheldon?"

I slide into the back seat. "Just putting Penny in her place. That's all."

"Okay," says Penny, climbing into the driver's seat; Amy gets in beside her, "but if you call me a whore again, I'm dumping your ass on the side of the road."

"Alright. Tramp."

Penny twists her body around to glare at me from the front seat. "I'm warning you."

"Fine. _Fine._" I hold up my hands in surrender, and she starts up the car.

"So, Penny," says Leonard. "Have you, uh, made up your mind about what we talked about before?"

Leonard thinks he's being cryptic. For the record, he's not.

"You mean the conversation about us getting back together?" Penny asks. Her tone is on the verge of sarcastic and unkind. "Uh, _yeah_."

Amy makes a noise that sounds halfway between a laugh and a cough. She's going to blow our cover for sure. I need to leave immediately – if Leonard discovers the nature of my relationship with Penny, he will likely show signs of aggression towards me. Being that I am currently sitting next to him, the aforementioned aggression does not bode well.

"C'mon," says Leonard. "If Amy and Sheldon can work out _their _differences, I'm sure we can do the s – "

"SKANK," I bellow. "PENNY'S A SKANK."

Penny slams on the brakes, throwing everyone forward in the car. She spins around and cuffs me in the ear with the heel of her palm. "I _warned _you," she says.

"I guess that means I have to walk," I say, not bothering to disguise my cheerfulness. I get out of the car and start walking alongside the road.

"Sheldon," Penny snaps, rolling down Amy's window. "I'm not actually going to strand you on the side of the road. Get back in."

"Oh, I wish I could," I say. "But rules are rules. As much as I wish that I could make all of them, such is not the case."

"But, it'll be dark soon."

"I should have thought about that before I decided to break the rules." I sigh. "Lord, I sure have learned my lesson." I must say, there's a bit of a skip in my step as I start off down the road. Life really is beautiful when Leonard's not sitting next to you making everything extremely uncomfortable. Ah, as much as I despise the outside, the air feels a little cleaner and, even in the growing twilight, the sky looks a little –

"O_kay, _see ya!" Penny guns the accelerator and takes off, leaving me alone on the side of a nearly empty highway.

"Wait," I call after her, despite her obvious inability to hear me. "You can't just _leave _me."

Somewhere in the deep L.A. wilderness, an owl hoots dolefully. A yellow-eyed, sharp-beaked owl thirsty for my blood. Of course, the sound possibly might be the blaring of a faraway car horn, but I don't feel the need to take any chances. My pace quickens.

Up the road, there's a turn-off point where travelers can stop for provisions or fill up their gas tanks. By the time I reach the first gas station, I'm out of breath for having sprinted there the entire way. Because I'm alone and traumatized by the image of a great bird swooping down to peck out my eyes, I find that I need to relieve my bladder in the men's room. At this Chevron station, the restrooms are located outside of the building. Elbowing my way through the door to avoid infection, I enter the men's room: one toilet and one urinal. Mud – or, what I hope is mud – cakes the tiles, and there is what appears to be a used condom lying on the floor in front of the urinal. There are no paper towels; there is only the dreaded hand dryer.

_I might as well go out back and pee in a creek_, I think as I survey the war-torn lavatory. I hold my breath, deciding which course I should take. Just as I decide to venture down the road to find a cleaner bathroom, the door opens behind me. In walks a younger man wearing a respectable tweed suit with a crisp crimson tie.

"'Prevening,' fellow bathroom-goer," I say, moving out of the way to allow him through.

"You need some company?" he asks me, placing his hand on my shoulder.

"No, thank you," I say, pleasantly surprised how thoughtful strangers can be sometimes. "Although I am perfectly capable of urinating by myself now, I'm actually on my way to find cleaner facilities."

"So…You don't want my services?" The man crosses his arms.

"No, but it's funny you should ask. When I was a boy, I used to be horrified that the toilet would, you know, attempt to devour my genitals every time I needed to pee. My mother used to have to hold my hand. It was quite an ordeal. But no, as of now, I don't need any assistance in easing my bodily fluids." I turn to leave.

"Are you being smart with me right now?"

I frown, my foot wedging the bathroom door open. "Pardon?"

"Look here, you little fuck, I'm just tryna make a couple bucks. We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. You get the hard way if you keep running your goddamn, smartass mouth."

"That's some offensive language," I say blankly.

"I guess you want the hard way. You don't want my services? Fine." The man digs deep into the inside pocket of his tweed jacket. He withdraws a silver handgun and points it at me.

_I am the master of my own bladder. I am the master of my own bladder. _

"Your wallet," the man says. "Hand it over."

I do as he says.

"Now your phone. Car keys. Anything else in your pockets."

Of course, I don't have any car keys, but I hand him my cellular device, my bottle of hand sanitizer, my compass, my pocket watch, spare change, my folded-up star chart, and a few pieces of lint.

"What the…?" He lowers his gun to sift through my personal effects. Then, he puts his gun away to unfold the star chart. He looks up at me. "What is this shit?"

"Well, sir, you can't expect me to memorize _all _of the stars in the Northern Hemisphere. Let's be realistic."

He's gaping at me, and I'm not entirely sure why.

"That's all I have," I say hopelessly.

He looks down at my feet. "What size shoe are you? Ten and a half? Eleven?"

"Eleven and a half," I reply evenly.

"Give me your shoes."

"Oh, no," I say. "I can't do that."

He shoves my belongings into his pockets, and he takes out his gun again. _"Take off your shoes."_

_ Oh, dear Lord._ I take off my shoes and hand them over with shaking fingers. "Can I please keep my socks?"

"I don't want your nasty ass, goddamn, sweat socks!" the man snaps. "What's _wrong _with you?"

I am deeply unhappy, that's what.

"Man," he says, annoyed, "get down on your knees. Count to, like, a hundred and fifty or something."

I look down at the grimy, dirty floor. I can imagine all of the germs down there just waiting to crawl all over me and infect me with E. coli. I'll have diarrhea until kingdom come.

"I respectfully decline," I say.

He presses the tip of the gun to my temple. "Get. Down. Now."

I slowly lower myself to the ground, wincing as I do so. Sweet Jesus, this is how the forensics team will find me – not shot up into a bloody pulp, no, but murdered by a swarm of flesh-eating bacteria. The air down by the floor smells as if I'm trapped inside an enormous, never-cleaned toilet bowl. At this point, I welcome a bullet to the brain.

"Start counting."

"One," I begin.

The man flees out into the gas station parking lot.

"Two…"

I wait until I hear the sound of a car making a swift getaway before I leap up and barrel out into the sweet, fresh, fresh air. I gasp and tear off my socks. I cry a little – nay, my body unwillingly suffers a bout of lacrimation – and I look for a payphone to call Penny.

xxxxx

_Penny_

I find Sheldon on the side of the road. His hair is mussed, and his face looks puffy. Poor thing. I roll down the passenger window as the car rolls to a stop in front of him. "Goin' my way?"

He wordlessly climbs into the front seat beside me.

"Are you okay, sweetie?"

"I burned my socks," he says softly.

"You did?"

"There was a man smoking outside of the Chevron. He lent me a lighter. He also gave me fifty cents to call you. Some people are _so _decent."

"Except for the guy who robbed you," I remind him.

"He seemed decent at first," Sheldon admits. "He asked if I wanted company when I went to use the bathroom." He scowls. "But he was _not _a nice man." He looks at me. "I had to pee in a ditch, Penny. A _ditch_. I was barefoot and peeing in a ditch like a damn hippie."

"Wait...Go back. He asked if you wanted _company? _In the bathroom. Company. Why didn't you leave right then?" When Sheldon looks blankly at me, I sigh. I guess being propositioned by a male prostitute isn't on the list of the top ten things that usually happen to Sheldon.

"You should have seen him, Penny," he says. "You would have thought he was respectable too. It was his tweed. His tweed betrayed me." Sheldon sighs. "I should have stayed in the car."

xxxxx

**A/N: Hurray for long and random adventure chapters! Review, skanks. **


	27. The Double Date Maneuver

_Sheldon_

I dread my return to the apartment as I know I will be thoroughly interrogated for my actions; I climb up the stairs with slow and weary steps. Penny harangues me to hurry my "mantis butt up."

I ignore this. At this point, defending myself against her hurtful slurs seems far less important than the daunting conversation I'll ultimately have with Leonard. He is going to demand my reasoning for abandoning the car on a dimly-lit highway in the middle of his thinly-veiled love confession to Penny. I have no excuse other than the truth – and the truth, obviously, can't be told unless I wish to embrace my early demise.

If this isn't stressful enough, Penny is slightly annoyed with me. After a reasonable amount of time in the car, Penny overcame her worry for my wellbeing with the irritation that I would allow her to suffer alone in the company of Leonard and Amy Farrah Fowler. She feared that Amy would have told Leonard everything, and Leonard would have attempted to strangle Penny mid-voyage. Fortunately, neither scenario occurred.

Penny pushes me in front of her through the apartment door. Everyone is waiting for me: Wolowitz, Koothrappali, Bernadette, Amy Farrah Fowler, and Leonard. They all wear party hats. Leonard looks up at me from his position on the couch; he looks exhausted. The room is tense – no one seems to be speaking. Does Leonard already know?

"Found 'im," says Penny, a little too cheerfully. "Now we can officially begin our 'welcome home' party."

Leonard looks at me, and I find that I'm having difficulty in interpreting his facial expression. Finally, he says, "What the _hell _was that all about?"

Everyone's looking at me for an answer, though it is obvious that five-sixths of my audience already know the truth. I attempt to clear my throat. "Is it a crime for a fellow to fancy a walk every now and then?"

Wolowitz and Koothrappali exchange knowing glances. Amy and Bernadette do the same.

"I don't…I don't even know how to respond to that," says Leonard. "You sure have been acting very strangely ever since I left for New Jersey."

I look down at the wooden grain of the floor, memorizing the direction of the grooves in the slats and how they lead to the edge of the blue area carpet. I choose my words carefully. "I warned you how extensively you would alter my routine with your absence." I peek up at him; Leonard seems to accept this answer despite the fact that Wolowitz wears a wince on his face.

Leonard sighs. "Sheldon, I will never fully understand you."

I feel the tension between my shoulders ease drastically. Penny clamps a hand on my elbow and pulls me towards the couch. I sit down beside Leonard, and Penny sits in the armchair. To fill the awkward silence, I tell the group about my ordeal in the Chevron station bathroom – I use my bare feet as visual aids to the story. I also express my desire to engage in my daily ablutions.

Everyone _ooh_s and _ah_s in all of the proper places; however, out of the corner of my eye, I see Amy Farrah Fowler approach Penny and usher her into the privacy of the hallway. Because of this, I find that I've quite forgotten my place in the story.

xxxxx

_Penny_

"I need to talk to you," whispers Amy, "in the hallway." She pulls on my hand to have me follow her past the bathroom to stand before Sheldon's bedroom door where we're hidden from sight.

"What's up?" I ask, nervous.

"I know we were all distracted in the car by Sheldon's sudden desertion, but as I recall, Leonard said something about Sheldon working things out with me. Is there a reason why Leonard is operating under this falsehood?"

"I may have lied to him a little bit," I admit. "Please don't be mad."

"Why would you do that?"

"Look, Amy, I plan to tell Leonard everything. It's just not the _right time_. Please just pretend like you're still with Sheldon."

"I can't," says Amy blankly. "I have a date tomorrow night."

"You…What?"

"With Stuart from the comic book store." She says this matter-of-factly. "I asked him out to spite Sheldon. However, I have every intention of enjoying myself. I plan to wear sexy panties."

I'm speechless.

xxxxx

_Sheldon_

Leonard has cornered me by the refrigerator. First, I thought his intention was to kill me, but upon further inspection, I realize that his objective is far more nefarious. Case in point: "What do you think about a double date? You, Amy, Penny, and me."

"I'm afraid I can't do that," I say, extracting a Yoo-hoo from the depths of the fridge. "I'm busy."

"I didn't even say when."

"I'm busy for the rest of eternity."

"Sheldon."

I take a sip of the beloved chocolate beverage before sighing. "How can you be certain that Penny will even agree to this?"

"I think I can win her over. She's probably more inclined to be with me in a group setting than in a formal one-on-one date setting," says Leonard with a shrug. "Also, she doesn't seem to be very much into this tool she's dating."

I try not to die of asphyxiation from my Yoo-hoo.

xxxxx

_Penny_

In the middle of my conversation with Amy, Leonard suddenly rounds the corner and appears in the hallway. He frowns at us. "What are you two talking about?"

"Female matters," Amy responds quickly. "You wouldn't understand."

"Uh, okay," says Leonard. "Anyway, I'm glad you're both here. What do you say to dinner tomorrow night? You two, me, and Sheldon."

I look at Amy. Her eyes are large behind her glasses, and she's looking at me for guidance. I shrug helplessly.

"Regrettably," she says, "I can't."

"Why not?" asks Leonard.

"Because I have a d –," Amy begins, and I stamp on her foot, "–entist appointment."

"Dentist appointment? At night?" Leonard frowns. "That's weird."

I look at Amy pleadingly. If going on a double date with Leonard will buy Sheldon and me more time before Leonard finds out, I'm all for it. I try to communicate this to Amy with my eyes. _Please, I'll owe you one. No, I'll owe you more than one. I'll owe you forever. _

Amy's never been able to stay mad at me for too long. She seems to crumple under my puppy-dog stare. "Fine. Perhaps we can eat _after _my appointment." By appointment, I know she means "date with Stuart."

Leonard claps his hands together. "Great. I'll tell Sheldon."

He leaves Amy and I staring at one another.

"You're indebted to me," says Amy.

"Yeah."

"Don't encourage this lie for too long," she warns. "If, in a week, you still haven't told Leonard the truth, I'm telling him myself."

xxxxx

_Sheldon_

I am in the middle of setting up the couch for Leonard – as Penny has no intention of moving all of her stuff out of his bedroom tonight – when confirming news of the double date reaches my perfectly-shaped ears.

Annihilate me. Annihilate me now.

xxxxx

**A/N: It's been a week since my last update. OOPS. Obvi, this was a set-up chapter for the shenanigans to come. Apologies for my lateness. Review, review, review. **


	28. The Confession Complexity

_Leonard_

I make sure my tie is straight before going into the small, privately-owned Italian restaurant. I glance at my watch; it's still a little early. That's alright, though. I'll walk in, secure a table, and talk to myself in the mirror of the men's room. Everything will be okay. No need to be nervous. I push open the door.

"How many, signore?" the host asks.

"Four. I made reservations; it should be under Hofstadter."

"Ah, sì, signore. Right this way."

I follow the man to a conveniently located table. There's a large potted fern situated on the tabletop where the wood meets the wall. I sit down and take a look around; I'm sure that Sheldon will be satisfied with this position – it's far enough from the bathroom that he won't fear E. Coli, and it is situated far enough from the ceiling vent that he won't be cold, but close enough that he won't be sweating in his dusty, brown, plaid suit.

Penny and Sheldon will be arriving together; Penny said she would have to go home first to change out of her work uniform, and Sheldon didn't want to go with me for some peculiar reason he didn't feel like sharing. Amy will come straight from her dentist appointment.

I glance around the restaurant. How can I win Penny over? How can I convince her that I deserve to be with her? How can I – Is that Amy at a table with Stuart?

I squint at them. An oiled waiter brings them the check. Stuart takes it and studies it for a moment before nodding and taking out his debit card. I snatch the potted fern from the end of the table and move it in front of my face. I crouch down and watch them through the fronds. Amy has her hands in her lap, but she's leaning forward across the table. Stuart is laughing a little as he hands his card to the waiter.

A dentist appointment? Busted.

Amy looks at her watch suddenly. She smiles, says something to Stuart, and stands up. Stuart stands up too; he kisses Amy on the cheek. _What the hell?_Amy goes to the ladies' room, but does not return. Stuart gets his card back, leaves the receipt, and exits the restaurant.

Again, I'm left with the following: _What the hell?_

Sheldon and Penny's faces appear in the door window. They come inside, exchange pleasantries with the host, and start for my table. Sheldon, in his predictable plaid suit, veers off towards the restrooms; he's probably going to wash up. Penny smiles and sits down across from me.

"Hey, Leonard," she says, unfolding her napkin and putting it on her lap. "How long've you been sitting here?"

"Not long," I say, distracted. "Listen, I saw something really weird. I don't know…I don't know if I should be telling anyone this, but…" I frown and look at the table that Stuart was recently sitting at with Amy. "I'm pretty sure I saw Amy on a date with Stuart."

Penny's smile falls; she looks stricken. "What?"

"Yeah, that was my reaction too. Stuart kissed her on the cheek and paid the bill. Amy's in the bathroom now. I think Amy's _cheating _on Sheldon."

"That can't be right," says Penny, a line of worry between her eyes. "I'm sure you didn't see what you think you saw."

"I'm pretty sure that's what was going on," I argue, burying my face in my hands. "What do I tell Sheldon?"

xxxxx

_Sheldon_

"What do I tell Sheldon?" Leonard asks Penny as I walk up to the table. Amy follows closely behind me; we met as we both left our separate, gender-specific bathrooms.

"What about me?" I question, standing over them. Leonard and Penny look up at me; Leonard looks guilty while Penny appears to be frightened. I frown. "What?"

"Nothing," says Leonard, giving me a wide grin that does nothing to convince me.

Penny remains silent.

I sit down next to Leonard, and Amy sits across from me. I can't help but find Leonard and Penny's behavior to be suspicious. What if – like Leonard previously suggested – he can, in fact, win Penny over? What if he already has? What if Penny confessed everything before resuming a relationship with Leonard, and now Leonard fears my reaction? What if this double date is really a ploy to get Amy and me back together so that Penny and Leonard won't feel guilty for their betrayal?

"So, how did your _dentist appointment_ go?" Leonard asks Amy, peeking at her over his menu.

"Very well, thank you," says Amy. "I'm pleased to inform you that I have no cavities."

"We always did have so much in common," I say to Amy. The fact that we've united over our similar aspects in dental hygiene is bound to make Penny insane with jealousy and lead her to abandon Leonard for me once again. A fool-proof plan.

Leonard winces at my words – he seems to recognize that I have the upper hand in this battle.

A waiter arrives. "Are you all ready to order?"

"Yes, I think so," I say, folding my menu. "Although this is the wrong night for Italian food, I am willing to make an exception to a plate of spaghetti with little hotdogs cut up in it."

The waiter frowns. "You mean meatballs?"

_"No,"_I say, not bothering to hide my annoyance. "Hotdogs. Cut up. Preferably in equal pieces, but I'm willing to leave a tip regardless."

"I can get you cut up Italian sausage in your spaghetti," says the waiter. "But it will cost extra."

I sigh. "If that's the best you can do." To Amy Farrah Fowler, I whisper, "What a nightmare."

"And you?" the waiter asks Amy.

"Nothing for me, thank you," she says. "A glass of water would be fine."

"Oh, you're not hungry?" Leonard asks her with a peculiar look on his face. "Already ate, did you? Don't, uh, have enough room for anything else? Not even a little room for a bowl of _stew?_"

Amy frowns at him. "I just had my teeth cleaned, Leonard. I'd like to keep this fresh feeling as long as possible."

Leonard narrows his eyes at her. "Yeah, sure. Sure." He then orders his own meal; Penny does the same.

What is going on? Do I detect that Leonard is directing hostility at Amy? I'm almost certain that this is the case. But why? Perhaps Amy knows of Leonard's secret love affair with Penny. Perhaps Amy has threatened to expose them because of the fact that she still cares for me. Perhaps Leonard's hostility is a warning should Amy attempt to tell me the truth.

I narrow my own eyes. They're all in on it.

xxxxx

_Penny_

When our food arrives, Sheldon asks Amy to pass the mozzarella cheese. When she passes it to him, he says with a slight smile, "Thank you." He glances at me smugly before turning back to Amy and adding, "Darling."

I raise my eyebrows. Is Sheldon seriously hitting on Amy in front of me? Where the hell did that come from? I know it's ridiculous, but part of me thinks this that double date is a really bad idea. What if it stirs up old feelings? What if Sheldon realizes that he has more in common with Amy than he does with me? What if he wants her back?

Leonard slaps down his menu on the table. "That's it!" he shouts. He glares at Amy, and then he looks at me. "We have to tell him."

Amy looks taken aback.

Oh, God. This is where it all comes out.

"Sheldon," Leonard says aggressively, turning to look at him. "She's cheating on you."

Sheldon glares at me. "I knew it."

No, not _me_, you doofus! I try to tell him this with my eyes. _Not me! Amy!_

Sheldon stands up from the table, furious. "I always knew you were a dirty, dirty tramp."

Leonard, of course, thinks Sheldon's talking about Amy.

"She was with Stuart!" Leonard adds.

_"Stuart?"_Sheldon stares at me and throws down his napkin. "Leonard, Stuart, that waiter over there? Where does it stop? Can you not control yourself, you disgusting sex addict?"

"Sex addict?" Leonard questions, glancing up at Sheldon. "I wouldn't necessarily call Amy a sex addict. Also, I _never_slept with her. I wouldn't do that to you."

Sheldon blinks and seems to regain some sense of control. He looks at Amy, and something seems to click. The crease between his eyebrows smoothes out. "Oh," he says knowingly. A red flush appears along his cheekbones. "Yes, well…" He looks at me for help.

I turn to Amy. "You should be ashamed of yourself."

"I…Hm." Amy takes a sip of her water. "Penny, might I have a word with you?"

"Yeah, _go with Penny._We don't want you here!" Leonard says, waving Amy away. As Amy and I make our way to the bathrooms, Leonard shouts, "Try talking yourself out of this one!"

xxxxx

_Sheldon_

Amy is dating Stuart? Had I foreseen this, I might have saved myself some embarrassment in front of the diners in this quaint Italian restaurant. Leonard and I are alone at the table, and Leonard attempts to console me.

"I can't believe she would do that to you," Leonard says. "I can't wrap my head around it."

"Yes, we were all stunned," I say, trying to peek at the bathrooms. How long do the females plan to urinate, I wonder?

Leonard places a hand on my shoulder, breaking my concentration. I look down at it and back up at him questioningly. "I'm sorry, buddy," he says. "If you need me to do anything, I'll do it."

Oh, Lord. Here comes the guilt, the want to confess, and the urge to defecate. Damn thee, Italian sausage! Guilt always did have a negative effect on my intestines.

"Leonard," I say, squirming in my seat with discomfort. "There's something I need to tell you."

"Anything," he says.

"I…," I begin. "I…I'll be right back." I get up and sprint to the solitude of the men's room.

xxxxx

_Penny_

The bathroom's pretty nice. There is a floral pattern in the glossy floor tiles, and the paper towels seem to be scented. Just as I'm getting caught up in the room's beauty, Amy says, "You have to tell Leonard."

"What?" Suddenly the scented paper towels don't seem all that great. "Right now?"

"As your bestie – and yes, I'm still your bestie even when I'm infuriated with you – I can't allow you to dig yourself into the ground like this. You should have informed Leonard of your courtship with Sheldon ages ago. It makes me wonder…Had I not the intuition to figure it out for myself, how long would you have lead me to believe this lie?"

I want to cry, but I won't because I haven't had any alcohol. "I'm sorry," I say. "Honestly, I hoped you'd never find out. But you're a lot smarter than Leonard." I look down at my feet. "I don't know what to say."

Right then, Sheldon bursts into the ladies' room. Amy and I stare at him.

He's twitching a lot and trying not to look at anything. "I'm sorry," he splutters, "but I couldn't take it anymore. Would you like to know how long you've been in here? Eight minutes and seventeen seconds. In that amount of time, I spoke to Leonard, I had a bowel movement in the adjacent bathroom, and I cleaned all of the taps in front of the mirror. There are _five_sinks, Penny. _Five_. That makes five faucets and ten taps, and – " He pauses, his nostrils flaring. "What is that _smell?_"

"The paper towels are scented," I explain.

"That's…That's actually quite clever," he says, pulling one out of the paper towel dispenser to examine it. "The creators might have picked a better smell, though."

"Like cookies," I suggest.

Sheldon nods in agreement. "I like cookies."

"Can we stay on track?" Amy asks, annoyed. "The only obstacle blocking me from telling Leonard everything is the knowledge that it will be a lot better for him if the truth comes from one of you. Leonard is your friend."

Sheldon and I look at one another. "What do you think?" I ask him.

"I don't think I can take it anymore," he says. He takes a deep breath. "But, I have a plan."

"Oh?" I ask, raising my eyebrows.

"Yes. _You_tell him while I go home and pack my things for Texas."

"Sheldon!"

"It's the only way, Penny," he says.

"He's _your_best friend," I remind him. "I told Amy, so you have to tell Leonard."

"You didn't _tell_ Amy," says Sheldon, narrowing his eyes. "Her evolved cerebrum deduced it for herself."

"Thank you," says Amy, looking pleasantly surprised.

"You're welcome," Sheldon replies. He returns his attention to me. "You were his previous lover. Was I? I should hope not. Therefore, _you_have to tell him."

"Best friend trumps lover," I say.

"Thank you," says Amy, looking surprised again.

"Don't mention it," I tell her. I look at Sheldon. "Maybe we should just tell him together."

"Together," he repeats. He looks as if he may faint. "O_kay_."

When we return to the table, Leonard is sitting there, looking confused as to why everyone abandoned him. Amy hovers behind us before we sit down. Then, she says, "I think I should go. Goodbye, everyone."

"What?" Leonard demands, outraged. "You can't just leave." He attempts to snag her arm as she makes for the door. "Get back here!"

"Leonard," says Sheldon softly. "Let her go. We need to talk to you. Penny and I do."

Leonard looks even more confused. I don't know how we're going to go through with this. "Okay," Leonard says, and we sit down.

xxxxx

_Sheldon_

For once, I fear a physical attack less than how Leonard will view me as a friend. Leonard's reaction to the suggestion that Amy is cheating on me only underscores his loyalty to me – this makes my confession all the more difficult. He is the one friend I've managed to keep the longest. Despite my idiosyncrasies he never seems to agree with, he has remained my companion and roommate. Never once has he betrayed me to the extent that I have betrayed him, although attempting to cover up the fact that Penny defaced my couch cushion with a paintball gun comes in as a close competitor.

Penny takes Leonard's hands in hers; he appears to be delighted by this. My intense fear of the events to come is the only thing preventing my jealous rage.

"Sheldon?" Penny prompts.

I clear my throat. "Penny and I…," I begin, trailing off.

"We're…," says Penny, looking at me.

"We're together," we chorus.

Leonard's first reaction is laughter. "What?" He looks at his watch, apparently to check the date. "April Fools' was a couple days ago."

"This isn't a prank," I declare, ignoring the fact that _couple _means _two_, and April Fools' Day was more than two days ago. "Or else you would have heard a good-natured _bazinga_."

Leonard's staring at me as if he can't really comprehend what he's looking at.

"We wanted to tell you sooner," says Penny, still holding Leonard's hands, "but we didn't know how."

Leonard laughs again, slipping his hands out from under Penny's. "C'mon, guys," he says. He looks at me. "C'mon, Sheldon. Let's hear the bazinga."

"I won't say it."

"Say it," says Leonard, still smiling.

"I won't."

Leonard's smile droops a little. He says his words through gritted teeth. _"Say it."_

"No."

"So, you…You and _Penny?_" He points at Penny in disbelief.

"Yes," Penny and I chorus once more.

Leonard locks his eyes on me. "For your safety, Sheldon, I _urge_ you to say bazinga." His eyes appear to be manic with ill-intent.

I look at him helplessly. "I _can't_."

Like I said previously, I do not fear a physical attack. For one, that isn't really Leonard's style. And two, I'm much larger than Leonard. So, you can imagine my surprise when Leonard knocks aside his nearly-empty plate of cheese-less ravioli and lunges across the table to tackle me to the ground.

xxxxx

**A/N: So, apparently, I had two of the same chapters up last night (3/15/12). Sorry if that messed everyone up. I wasn't trying to be a dick, I promise. **


	29. The Breadstick Ascension

_Sheldon_

Leonard is surprisingly strong for a homunculus. He sits on my chest, his densely packed body pining me to the floor of the Italian restaurant as he succeeds in blocking my vision with a wad of slippery spaghetti noodles.

_"You like that?" _he hisses, spraying my cheeks with remnants of his cheese-less ravioli. _"You like that, Sheldon?"_

Although I am given to believe that he is asking a rhetorical question, I feel the need to answer anyway. "No, Leonard," I say. "I don't enjoy what you're doing to me." My hand blindly traces the groove in the tile beside me – I seek out a weapon to defeat this overly cocky hobbit who aims to destroy me. My fingers run into what feels like one of the table's appetizing garlic breadsticks. I grip it as I would a knife.

When there is a change in kinetic energy, work equals force times distance. The force I am applying during my upswing of the breadstick is roughly 210 newtons. The estimated distance between Leonard's face and the starting position of the breadstick is 0.6 meters. By these calculations, 126 joules is equivalent to the work involved in stabbing a breadstick up Leonard's right nostril.

Leonard falls back, picking a severed piece of bread from his nose. "What the hell, Sheldon?"

I roll over onto all fours, my eyes locked on Leonard in preparation for another assault.

He lunges out to slap me – I parry his blow with my broken plate.

_"Ow, Sheldon," _he moans, clutching his bruising hand.

The air vent is directly above us now. I roll out of the way to avoid wind resistance so that my hand can deliver a particularly lethal hit, provided that Leonard gets any closer. Leonard however, seems to realize that we have engaged in full-fledged warfare – he knocks a chair over and uses it as a shield. He proceeds to chuck silverware at me.

"Really, Penny?" Leonard demands from his cowardly hiding spot. _"Him?" _

"What's that supposed to mean?" Penny asks, staying out of the crossfire.

"Sheldon is the most selfish," begins Leonard, throwing my own water glass at me, "self-centered – "

"Let me stop you there," I say, wiping aqua from my eyes, "before your speech becomes too redundant."

Leonard releases an animalistic war cry as he hugs the chair to his chest, gets to his feet, and begins running at me with it. I roll out of the way just in time to trip him; he tumbles over the chair, face-first onto the floor. He does something of a summersault before colliding with a nearby table. He recovers and looks over his shoulder. He turns and slowly gets to his feet without taking his eyes off of me.

Never in my youth have I ever seen anyone look at me in such a way.

Oh, dear Lord. The man is going to kill me.

"Think about the consequences of your actions, Leonard," I say, cowering against a leg of our table. He starts towards me at an unhurried, but calculated pace. "Murdering me is strictly forbidden in the Roommate Agreement."

"You _lied _to me. Where in the Roommate Agreement is _that _allowed?" Leonard demands, still walking towards me.

"I never said I _wasn't _dating Penny," I argue, highly affronted. "Perhaps we can discuss this before – "

"No. There will be no discussion." He wipes his bloody nose.

At this point, our tumble about the restaurant has received a sizable audience – they form a circle around us as if Leonard and I were partaking in a boxing match. "I'm calling the police," someone cries with excitement, clearly never having called the authorities before.

"No!" says Penny. "No police! We're leaving." She steps between us to bend down and touch my cheek. "You okay?"

"No, we're not leaving," says Leonard. "Not until I kill Sheldon. Move out of the way, Penny."

"Hear that, ladies and gentleman?" I call out. "Attempted murder!" To Leonard, I say, "You'll be tried in court for this."

"I'll be tried in court for _actual _murder," Leonard replies, reaching around Penny to grab the front of my shirt. He pulls me up to my feet – odd choice; I tower over him.

I slap him in the face.

He slaps me back.

This goes on for a while.

"I can't," _slap_, "believe," _slap_, "you'd pick," _slap_, "him," _slap_, "over," _slap_, "_me_," Leonard says to Penny.

Penny looks at me with soft eyes. "He's a good guy."

"Hear," _slap_, "that?" I ask Leonard smugly. "I'm a good," _slap_, "guy!" I slap Leonard's glasses off his face.

He grabs my hands to still them; he looks over his shoulder at Penny. "You have nothing in common with him. You two aren't even on the same _level_. Sheldon's brilliant but completely obnoxious, and you're – "

"Oh," says Penny, placing her hands on her hips; this is a sign I've learned to associate with danger. "So, what you're saying is that I'm not _smart _enough for Sheldon?"

Good Lord, I could have come up with _that_. Although, even with my "obnoxiousness," I don't have the audacity to say it to her outright.

"Well, _yeah_," says Leonard.

"I was smart enough for _you_," says Penny, her tone dripping with venom. Now, it appears as if she may join in the fray.

The anger diminishes from Leonard's voice. "That's not…That's not what I was getting at." He releases my hands to bend down and put his glasses back on; he stands back up to talk to Penny. "C'mon, Penny. This is _Sheldon _we're talking about." He looks at me, revulsion in every crevice of his face. "He's a _loser._ He'll never be able to love a human being more than he loves himself."

I feel surprisingly stung by this.

"That's not true," says Penny defiantly, and I nod. Decent female, that one.

"Well, let's hear him say it, then," says Leonard, pointing to me. "C'mon, Sheldon. Prove me wrong."

I open my mouth to speak, but am interrupted by two police officers parting the crowd.

xxxxx

_Leonard _

Half an hour after our restaurant brawl, Sheldon and I find ourselves in a large holding cell at the police station. There are three other men in the cell with us, and one of them appears to be homeless.

"Ruffian," says Sheldon, addressing the homeless man sitting on the low bench attached to the far wall, "that's my spot. You have to move."

"Sheldon," I say, massaging my throbbing temples, "leave the man alone before you get yourself killed." Not that I care.

"Leonard, you forget that I've been imprisoned here before. That gives me Clink Cred."

I'm just going to stop listening to him like I should have on the first day we met. I should have just walked away. I shouldn't have become his roommate and friend. After all, look at all the good it's done me.

When the homeless man still refuses to move, Sheldon joins me at the entrance to the cell. He doesn't touch the bars with his hands, but he leans his back against them. He crosses his arms. "Because I know Penny will force me to do this later, I'll just say it now: I suppose I owe you an apology."

I glance at him; I'm pleased to note that the skin below his right eye is swollen and red. With any luck, he'll have a black eye. "I'm listening."

"I'm…sorry," says Sheldon, clearly struggling. "I should have informed you sooner of my Relationship Agreement with Penny."

I wince, feeling as if I've been punched in the gut. "She _signed _a contract?"

He jerks his face towards me in the realization that he's said something to hurt me. "I…Yes," he says. "I'm sorry."

I've never had Sheldon apologize to me so solemnly before. Despite this, there's something in his eye that lets me know it's not over. That Penny isn't just a one-time thing for him, or some kind of psychotic experiment. I feel a lump growing in my throat. "You actually like her, don't you?"

He doesn't answer me at first. Then, he says, "It was an accident."

I press my face against the bars. Does he love her? "You should have told me."

"I know," Sheldon says. Then he adds, "Tell me how to proceed, here. Under normal circumstances, I'd offer you a hot beverage and my condolences. However, as the liquid in the closest proximity is that toilet water over there, and we seem to be lacking mugs and a tea kettle, the only thing I can think to do is to provide you a hearty clap on the shoulder." He half-heartedly raises his hand, but I shake my head.

"It'll take me a little bit to get over this, Sheldon," I say. "Tea, toilet water, or otherwise isn't going to help."

He lowers his hand. "I'm sorry about the breadstick."

I nod and sigh. "I'm sorry about the spaghetti."

xxxxx

**A/N: Another chapter. Man, I'm just on a roll. This is just a side note, but as I was watching TBBT last night, I just want to point out how much I hate Sheldon's hair now. It looks so stupid! I want his old haircut back. Okay. Now, back to this story. Review. **


	30. The U Haul Solution

_Sheldon_

Our _friends _came to bail us out of jail. I say "friends" sardonically because, upon their arrival, the majority of them seemed only interested in bailing Leonard out. Despite the fact that _I _was the victim, only involved because I sought to defend myself, Wolowitz took several (12.7, to be accurate) painful seconds entertaining the idea of allowing me to rot away in the cell. Of course, Wolowitz lead me to believe that _he_ would be the one paying to bail me out. Once I realized that Leonard and I could simply drop the charges of our violence against one another, it was apparent that we could leave on our own accord. It seems that despite the broken plate, the restaurant did not make any complaints of damaged property. Leonard, however, was hesitant about whether or not he should drop the charge.

Fortunately, he decided to, and we now find ourselves in the backseat of Penny's car. As the atmosphere is tense, with only Wolowitz to separate Leonard from me, I feel the need to break the silence. "He started it," I say.

"Shut up, Sheldon," three individuals chorus. Koothrappali, who sits in the front passenger seat, is not one of these individuals as he is not under any sort of alcoholic influence to voice his opinions in front of Penny. However, to get his point across, he turns around and glares at me.

Well, then. "As I have no allies in this car, I suppose I will."

"That would be for the best," says Leonard.

"Actually," says Penny, "I think both of you should shut up. I've never been more embarrassed in my entire freakin' life. You realize that we can _never _go back to that restaurant again, right?"

"I wouldn't want to, anyway," I say sourly. "That Italian sausage was a poor substitution for chopped hotdog."

Penny says nothing to this, but she looks at me with narrowed eyes through the rearview mirror. However, when she turns her head to the side, I can see the hint of a smile. Then, she says, "As punishment, you guys have to help me move."

I feel my stomach drop, not necessarily at the prospect of moving furniture (which is, in itself, daunting), but at the realization that Penny is not long for our apartment; soon, she will be returning to her abode across the hall. I turn my gaze to the slouching buildings and stunted trees that pass by my window, and I resign myself to eternal woe.

"Okay," Leonard agrees. "You should know, though, that we're sorry." He pauses, and I have the suspicion that he's looking at me. I draw my attention from the window to look at him, and I find that my suspicion is accurate. "Well," continues Leonard, "_I'm _sorry, at least. I shouldn't have acted that way. It was stupid."

"Sheldon?" Penny prompts.

She's searching for an apology, and I'm not entirely sure why. Did _I _dive across a table to tackle a dinner companion? Not that I am aware of – Leonard was at fault for initiating that battle.

_"Sheldon?" _

I weigh the outcomes of hypothetical responses. If I refuse to apologize, Penny will likely pull the car over and cuff my ear with the aid of her powerful masculine-esque right bicep. If I do apologize, however, I'll likely look weak in front of my male companions. If I say nothing at all, Penny will assume I have died, and she may make unnecessary phone calls for funeral arrangements, and I'll have a lot of explaining to do in front of my mother and Meemaw.

I sigh and meet her eyes in the mirror. "I'm sorry," I say. "I was wrong to behave in that unruly manner."

Wolowitz and Leonard turn to stare at me. Koothrappali, additionally, turns in his seat to look at me with disbelief. I can understand Leonard's surprise – obviously, my apologies are rare, and he has witnessed _two _of them in one day.

"Don't look at me like that," I chide them. "I'm quite capable of apologizing."

"No, you're not," says Leonard. "Not like that."

"Perhaps, then, your assault has addled my brain," I say, suddenly worried.

"Your brain's fine, Sheldon," says Penny, and I can hear the smile in her voice. "Thank you for apologizing, sweetie. You're still moving my furniture, though."

Drat.

The next morning, a Sunday, Koothrappali, Wolowitz, Leonard, and I find ourselves at the storage facility down the street from our apartment complex. Penny did not bring the majority of her furniture with her when she moved in with me; she had it stored in a unit to wait until she found a new place. Additionally, she did not come with us to move furniture as she says she has a "play" to rehearse for – a play that she refuses to tell us the name of in order to encourage us to attend it during its live performance. I dread this.

We – and by "we," I mean me – rented a U-Haul truck to transport the furniture from the facility to the apartment complex. Leonard wanted to save money by carrying the furniture pieces one-by-one down the street. Brilliant and lacking upper body strength, I vetoed this idea and decided to employ the services of a famed U-Haul vehicle.

"God," Leonard grunts as he attempts to tackle a bookshelf all on his own. He stumbles backwards a few steps before regaining control. He hugs it to his chest.

"Remarkable," I say, watching him.

"I can carry a bookshelf," he snaps.

"No," I say, mildly surprised, "not that. I'm just astonished that Penny even owns one."

"Oh."

We stare at each other. He cracks a smile, but quickly suppresses it. He then shifts his weight from one foot to the other and starts for the U-Haul. I, meanwhile, confront a large table lamp. I should probably revise the adjective "large" to "_quite_ large." It looks heavy. Additionally, there is a film of dust on the pale pink lamp shade; I eye it warily.

"Sheldon, you haven't carried anything to the truck!" Wolowitz is sweating profusely in his dickey-and-tank-top ensemble. "Stop staring at the damn lamp, and pick it up!"

"Oh, I wish it were that simple," I say. "Really, I do."

Wolowitz picks up the lamp with such vigor that he nearly throws himself off balance with the weight of it. Quickly, however, he pushes it forward into my unsuspecting stomach. I grab it instinctively to avoid having it fall to the ground and smash on my toes.

"Take. It. To. The. _Truck_."

Despite my reluctance, I obey. At the truck, Koothrappali is rifling through a box of Penny's things. He pulls out a pair of flowery oven mitts for inspection. "These are really quite nice," he says, trying them on. "Cushiony."

I ignore his apparent homosexuality and relinquish the dreaded devil lamp to the back of the U-Haul. "Raj," I say, "stop going through Penny's things. It's not decent."

He continues wearing the oven mitts to mock me. "What are you going to do about it?"

"I've already been to jail twice," I say as a response. I let the obvious dangle there unsaid.

Koothrappali makes puppets out of Penny's oven mitts. Through a particularly appalling display of ventriloquism, he makes one of his hands say the following: _"I've been to jail twice. I'm a _baaad _oven mitt."_

Unfortunately, the other mitt finds it necessary to reply. _"You're the biggest, baddest oven mitt I've ever met,"_ it says.

Even more unfortunately, the two oven mitts proceed to make out.

"That's offensive," I say, "and 'baddest' isn't a word." I leave before the oven mitts can say anything else.

I'm surprised that of the three of them, Leonard is being the most civil. Koothrappali and Wolowitz weren't unsupportive of my relationship with Penny until Leonard's return, which I find to be exceedingly unfair. Perhaps, though, their maltreatment of me is simply to make Leonard feel better about the whole situation. I wish I knew how to do the same…It's not like I can beat _myself _up.

I decide to help Leonard move the coffee table. "Leonard," I say, "how can I fix this?"

He knows I'm not talking about the table. "Besides dumping Penny?"

I pale at the thought. "Yes."

"There's really nothing you _can_ do," Leonard admits. "This is something I need to come to terms with."

"But –," I begin before I am rudely interrupted by Koothrappali and his cursed oven mitts.

"My sister's coming back to town," he says casually.

Leonard drops his end of the table, which startles me. I jump a little.

"Oops, sorry," says Leonard, picking up his side again. "What was that, Raj?"

"You heard me," Koothrappali replies, slipping off the oven mitts and returning them to their original box. He crosses his arms. "She told me when I woke up this morning."

Leonard clears his throat. "That's, uh, interesting."

"Does that mean you're going to resume sexual relations with Priya?" I ask, delighted. Despite my oath of perpetually loathing the woman, her return would solve all of my problems.

_"Sheldon," _Leonard says, his face a bright reddish hue, "shut up!" He turns to Koothrappali. "Did she, ah, say _why_ she's coming back? Will it be permanent?"

Koothrappali shrugs. "It was a short text." His expression darkens, and he raises a finger. "I'm telling you this because you're bound to find out anyway. But, I swear, if you mess with my sister…"

"I'm not going to do anything. We broke up. It's over," Leonard replies, though his face seems to read otherwise.

"You know," I say slyly, "if you start dating Priya again, it will probably make Penny insane with jealousy." It won't. I just wish to encourage the idea.

Leonard, however, doesn't seem to find this funny.

"Too soon to make jokes?" I question.

"Too soon," he agrees, though he seems to consider my proposal.

"Sorry." Three apologies in one weekend. I'm on a roll.

After we finish packing up the U-Haul, Leonard climbs into his car. Wolowitz and Koothrappali follow suit.

I look at the U-Haul, and then I look at Leonard. "Excuse me," I say to him through his opened window. "Who is going to drive the truck?"

"You are," says Leonard smugly.

"No, I'm not."

"You paid for the ridiculous U-Haul, so you have to drive it."

"Pardon me for making everyone's lives easier," I say, annoyed.

"You put a lamp in the truck. _That's it_," says Wolowitz from the backseat.

Koothrappali provides an elaborately sarcastic shrug. "Sorry, dude."

"But I don't have a license. The Tweed Suit Mugger took my wallet. Driving this truck, even just down the street, will be illegal." I frown, feeling a sense of hopelessness spread to my extremities.

"You've already been to jail twice," Koothrappali reminds me with a smirk.

Curse that Indian and his entire Brahmin caste.

"Go with him," Leonard says to Koothrappali.

_"What? Why?" _Koothrappali is not pleased by this information. Neither am I.

"Make sure he doesn't crash or something."

So, Koothrappali and I climb into the U-Haul. The steering wheel trembles beneath my clammy palms. "Turn it on for me," I tell Koothrappali.

"Turn it on yourself."

I manage to do so. Here is the transcript of our one-sided dialogue during our voyage from the storage facility to the apartment:

Koothrappali: "Look in the mirror when you're backing up!"

Koothrappali: "There's _no _one coming. Just turn already."

Koothrappali: "Uh, dude, that was a _stop sign_?"

Koothrappali: "MERGE. MERGE. Oh, Jesus Christ, I can't watch this."

Koothrappali: "Just because _I _can't watch, it doesn't mean _you _should shut your eyes."

Koothrappali: "RIGHT. You just passed your own building! Make a U-turn."

Koothrappali: _"NO U-TURN. NO. DON'T DO IT." _

When we finally park the U-Haul in the parking lot in front of our building, Kripke is out there packing his own belongings into the bed of a pickup truck. He makes a face at us as we start towards the door; Koothrappali seems to be stumbling. "Never again," Koothrappali says.

We climb the stairs, and we find Leonard and Wolowitz waiting out in the hall.

"What are you – ?" I begin, but Leonard holds up a hand.

"No, _shh_, listen." He points to our apartment door.

I frown and join him, pressing my ear to the wood. This is what I hear: _"'Tomorrow! Tomorrow! I love ya, tomorrow! You're always a day away!'"_ The ending note is inhumanly high and unnecessarily long.

"Dear Lord," I say, recoiling. "What is that?"

"Penny," Leonard replies flatly. "Practicing for her play." He claps me on the shoulder. "Now that _you're_ the boyfriend, you have to attend all of her functions." His smile is malicious in nature. "Have fun sitting through _Annie_ by yourself."

Texas is starting to look pretty good right about now.

xxxxx

**A/N: Who's excited about Sheldon attending Penny's play? This guy. Also, I know the whole getting-out-of-jail part is really unrealistic. Honestly, I don't care. I'm just acknowledging that I know this. ANYWHO, leave a review. **


	31. The Wardrobe Transformation

_Sheldon_

Four days have passed since Penny has moved back to her apartment across the hall. My relationship with Leonard is tense at best – although he drives me to and from work, our conversations are limited to halfhearted greetings and comments on the seasonal heat. My metaphorical heart is metaphorically heavy with melancholy, both at Leonard's obvious unhappiness and the distance the aforementioned unhappiness has wedged between Penny and myself. Not only has Penny been separated from me physically with her change in address, but she also seems emotionally detached – however, she claims that her remoteness is solely due to her need to prepare for her upcoming _Annie _performance. I'm not quite sure that I believe her.

At lunch on Thursday at the university, Koothrappali, Wolowitz, Leonard, and I crowd around our usual table in the cafeteria, and I imagine that we have gone back to a time where none of us have girlfriends or complex lives or commitments other than going to work and slipping into a REM cycle at night. Unfortunately, Wolowitz chatters on about his engagement to Bernadette and their current summer wedding plans and his worries about those plans interfering with his foolhardy astronaut ambitions. Leonard, additionally, discusses his ill mother, though his discontent hardly seems to stem from Beverly's wellbeing. Koothrappali is the only one who seems relatively unchanged from his self in the previous time – this "previous time" is a term I've come to associate with life before meeting Penny. Back when everything was normal.

"Sheldon," says Leonard, pulling me from my despondent reverie, "I hear Dr. Charles Townes is coming to speak at the university tomorrow evening."

Dr. Townes helped produce the first microwave amplifier. Additionally, he was partially responsible for the invention of the laser, as his work in the field was particularly groundbreaking. Dr. Townes received his Ph.D. here at Caltech, and although the man is, quite frankly, ancient, meeting him, or even hearing him speak, would be – and pardon me for the cliché – a dream come true.

Leonard goes on to say, "I was wondering if you'd like to go with me."

Wolowitz and Koothrappali momentarily abandon their sustenance, their forks paused in midair, to glance between Leonard and me. They seem to be waiting for my response.

"That's very thoughtful, Leonard," I finally say. "I would enjoy that very much." Perhaps our mutual appreciation of the ninety-six-year-old man will provide an adhesive by which my friendship with Leonard can be mended. Just as I am thinking this, however, another realization strikes me: Penny's play.

Penny's play is tomorrow evening.

"However," I add quickly, just after Wolowitz and Koothrappali have visually relaxed, "I must decline."

Leonard frowns. "What? Why?" The others, too, look at me with inquiry.

"Previous engagement," I reply vaguely.

Leonard's curious expression darkens; his tone becomes flat. "Penny's play is tomorrow, isn't it?"

I nod. "I promised her I would attend."

The atmosphere at the table becomes increasingly awkward, but luckily, our lunch period draws to a close.

xxxxx

_Leonard_

Despite my dislike for this whole _Sheldon and Penny _situation, I must admit Penny's effect on Sheldon amazes me. It's completely unlike Sheldon to so quickly dismiss the idea of meeting _the guy who basically invented the laser _in order to attend a third-rate production of a musical where the leading performer can't even sing. What gives?

xxxxx

_Penny_

"Show me what you're wearing tomorrow," I tell Sheldon after dinner as we sit together in his room; Leonard and the others are in the living room watching TV.

"Well," says Sheldon, opening the door to his closet, "what do you think about _this_?" He spins around, holding up two hangers. One has a red, quarter-length sleeved shirt on it, while the other holds his evolution t-shirt.

"You wear clothes like that every day," I say, disappointed.

He frowns. "I've never worn these two _particular _shirts together."

"Sheldon," I say, "when the play ends, we're going to an after party. Important people are going to be there – I was told Keanu Reeves' cousin might come. You need to look like you belong; you can't dress like you always do."

Sheldon cocks his head at me. "What's wrong with the way that I dress?"

"Oh, sweetie," I say, standing up to take the shirts from him, "there's nothing wrong with the way you dress." I return the shirts to the closet. "But, maybe, I just wanna show off the rock star I'm dating."

Sheldon looks confused by this, and his confusion is so cute I just want to kiss him, so I do; this results in more Sheldon confusion.

I take his hands in mine and pull him down onto his bed. He lies down beside me obediently, and I press my face into his chest. He breathes calmly and steadily. That's one thing about Sheldon that I love; although he's highly resistant to change, and that fact usually drives me bat crap crazy, it also means that he's consistent. There's some order to his chaos, and that's what I find comforting.

"Just do this for me, okay?" I ask. "Let me take you shopping tomorrow afternoon before the play."

He hesitates, and he rolls over to fully face me. "Alright," he says, his nose inches from mine. His blue-eyed blaze meets my gaze, and I can't help but wonder what's going on through that beautiful mind of his. His eyes linger on mine a few moments longer before flicking down to stare at my mouth and back up again. I smile as he pulls me into a kiss.

xxxxx

_Sheldon_

The mall is a loathsome place. It's crawling with angst-ridden teenagers with their skinny jeans, loud chatter, and offensive pimples. Additionally, to my dismay, I've caught as least three fifteen-year-old boys staring at Penny with lust in their eyes; it's positively appalling. Youths these days.

"Stop making faces at those kids," Penny chides me as she pulls me into Express.

"That one looked at me funny," I argue as the chill of the store hits me along with the smell of expensive, cashmere sweaters. I frown at a price tag. "Why can't we go to JCPenney?"

"Because that place is for poor people," says Penny, distracted by a display of black fedoras, "and you have a fat wallet." I suppose she means this figuratively as my wallet is rather thin being that my previous one was stolen; now, my wallet only houses a single debit card. I've yet to receive new credit cards in the mail. Regardless of the width of my wallet, Penny continues to shop. She selects one of the hats from the display and turns it over, inspecting it. She beckons me over and stands on her tiptoes to place the hat on my head. "Headgear: check. Let's find you some skinny jeans."

"Dear Lord," I groan as I follow her around the store.

Hours later, after returning home, I change into my Express clothes with a newfound appreciation for Wolowitz; his commitment to the most uncomfortable pants on the face of this planet is admirable, if not foolish. Penny has already left to rehearse for opening night, and Leonard, however disgruntled, has agreed to drive me to the playhouse on the way to Dr. Townes' lecture.

As I walk out of my room, my hair mussed beneath my perfectly askew fedora and my vest unbuttoned as instructed by Penny, Leonard bursts out into laughter. To my surprise, it is not unkind laugher or, rather, it is not _meant _to be unkind. Leonard beats his fist against the right armrest of the couch, slouching sideways to conceal the tears of hysterical amusement in his eyes. "What…the hell…are you _wearing_?" he manages to gasp out between bouts of laughter.

I sniff in defiance, clutching a bouquet of flowers to my chest – I bought it earlier due to the social convention of giving flowers to the leading star on an opening night of a performance. Also, I reasoned that Penny would appreciate it.

"You look like a magician!" Leonard adds, still laughing.

"Penny wanted me to wear eyeliner, but I put my foot down," I say, trying to regain what is left of my dignity.

Leonard seems to recover after a few moments. He regards me with serious eyes over his glasses. Finally, he says, "When are you going to tell her?"

"Tell her what?"

Leonard pauses. "That you love her."

This is unexpected. I tilt my head at Leonard, trying to formulate an appropriate response to his question. I decide to answer as honestly as I can. "I don't know," I say.

He seems to accept this. He slaps his knees briefly before standing up. "Well, Houdini, let's get you to the show on time. C'mon."

xxxxx

_Penny_

"Is he here yet?" I ask aloud to no one in particular. I peek behind the curtain; the audience isn't very full, but that's not going to matter when Sheldon shows up. I squint into the darkness. Then, I see him. His hat is tilted a little too much – it covers up one of his eyes. Just as I'm getting caught up in how incredibly sexy he looks as he shoves his hand into the right pocket of his skinny jeans, I realize what he's doing. He pulls out a miniature flashlight and turns it on, shining it into the eyes of the audience members seated in the first row.

I have to bite back a laugh as the people in the front row glare at Sheldon as he finds a seat with his flashlight. Finally, his sits down, looking satisfied. I shut the curtain and retreat to my spot on the stage. _He came to my play_, I think to myself. _He actually came. _

xxxxx

_Sheldon_

I should have been financially bribed for this. The director of this terrible version of _Annie_, for whatever reason, found it necessary to have a full grown, musically challenged blonde woman play a young, singing, redheaded orphan child. Although I commend Penny's vivacious spirit, I cannot say whether or not I'd rather spend my evening suffering from diarrhea than watching Penny dance and sing across the stage wearing a hideously enormous red wig.

Although her melodramatic overacting is bad as it is, Penny's singing is, as expected, far worse. To give her some credit, however, her rendition of "It's the Hard-Knock Life" is far better than her high-pitched "Tomorrow." The only thing keeping the seat of my achingly tight pants attached to my chair is how happy Penny looks up there. Never before have I seen her like this, with her cheeks glowing beneath the hot stage lights. To my eternal embarrassment, I find her to be so stunning that I almost forgive the insulting wig. Almost.

Whenever Penny leaves the stage for a costume or scene change, I find myself missing her presence just a little bit, and I sit straighter in my chair, trying to see where she's gone. At curtain call, I cheer more loudly than any other in the audience. Of course, my applause has less to do with Penny's performance and more to do with my pleasure at the play ending. She, however, doesn't need to know this.

Penny blows a kiss at me before disappearing offstage to change.

xxxxx

_Penny_

Sheldon waits for me with a fistful of flowers. Although he is not one for smiling, the corners of his mouth quirk up as I come to a stop in front of him.

"I like your dress," he says as he hands me the flowers.

"Forget the dress," I say anxiously. "How did you like the play?"

He tilts his head to the side, thinking. "Your singing was almost as good as your acting."

"Really?" I ask, hugging him. The flowers are crushed between our bodies. "I'm glad you liked it. C'mon, someone got a limo to take us to Jeff's house."

"Jeff?"

"The director." I pull on his hand and drag him to the front of the theatre. He stumbles after me, holding onto his hat with his free hand. I'm so happy, I feel like I'm going to burst. I'm so glad that Sheldon liked the play; I was worried he wouldn't. After all, he's never come to one of my plays before. But, I know he wasn't lying when he said he liked my acting – he's a bad liar and, anyway, he tells me the truth about stuff like that.

There's champagne in the limo. Sheldon, of course, keeps far away from it, but I help myself to a couple glasses. Although it's obvious that the party will cost more than what we'll ever bring in with the play, I find that I don't really give a crap. My happiness seems to overshadow this thought.

It's raining when we get to Jeff's house, and I'm a little tipsy. Sheldon wordlessly helps me inside, taking slow steps despite the rain. Once we're inside, he continues to clutch my arm to keep me from falling. "I can walk, you big dummy," I tell him, and he lets go of me. "I'll be right back. I gotta pee."

"Tell me how it turns out," he replies, and I know he's serious.

I stumble off to the bathroom, but there's a line when I find it. I tap my toes on the tile and cross my arms. I hate waiting. Nearby, there's a cluster of people deep in conversation. I can only hear snippets of what they're saying:

"…ridiculous. Complete waste of time..."

"Actually, I was glad I went…"

"…so terrible it was funny…"

This last part, I hear quite clearly:

"Not sure which was more ridiculous: the lead actress's performance or the wardrobe of the guy she came with."

I open my mouth to defend Sheldon and me, but someone taps me on the shoulder. I turn, not recognizing the person before me. "Bathroom's open," the woman says before wandering off.

_Pee first,_ I think. _Fight second. _

When I finish, Sheldon is waiting for me outside of the bathroom. I tell him what I overheard. He doesn't seem to look very surprised. Instead, he tries to console me. "I'm sorry you're upset," he says. "Would you like me to confront them?" He straightens his fedora and attempts to look menacing.

"No," I say, sighing. "Let's just go."

"What about Keanu Reeves' cousin?"

"I want to go home."

We leave the party, hand-in-hand, and catch a cab back to the playhouse. Sobered by my disappointment, I climb into the front seat of my car. Before starting the engine, though, I turn to face Sheldon. "I'm sorry I made you come to my horrible play," I say. "And I'm sorry I made you wear that stupid outfit. I thought it would be fun."

He looks at me, and I get the feeling he wants to tell me something. Then, he shakes his head slightly and presses his back against the passenger seat chair. "I don't care," he finally says. "I enjoyed watching you up there."

xxxxx

_Sheldon_

Once we reach our building, Penny is still in a melancholy mood. She wishes to part ways in the hall and go to bed, but I refuse to allow her to do this. "No," I say, quite firmly as she attempts to shrug me off.

She raises her eyebrows at me. "Excuse me?"

I clasp my hands behind my back and bow my head. "I politely request a night of amorous activity." I peek up at her quickly.

Her eyebrows raise another fraction of a millimeter, if that is possible. "You…What? You want to, uh…?" She points her thumb and the door behind her. Her expression is of profound confusion.

"Do try to speak intelligibly, Penny. I have no time to translate your underdeveloped English."

She smiles. "You're serious?"

"I am always serious," I remind her.

"Um, then, _yeah. _Permission _granted_. C'mere." She yanks on the front of my vest to pull me into the dark confines of her apartment. By the time we reach her bedroom, I cannot say what has happened to my skinny jeans, but I admit that I welcome its absence.

xxxxx

_Penny_

We collapse onto my bed, my hand pressing against Sheldon's bare chest. His mouth hangs above me, partially opened in a smile, before he lowers his face to kiss me. Suddenly, my theatrical embarrassment seems less important, and with my free hand, I knock off his stupid fedora.

xxxxx

**A/N: And they had sex. THE END. Everyone can go home now.**

**No, but really, there will be more chapters. I figured I should edit this A/N because everyone thought this was the last chapter. It isn't.**


	32. The Doctor Who Deviation

_Sheldon_

I have decided to keep a sex journal. Why, my fellow mankind? I'm _so_ glad you asked. I think it would be interesting and beneficial to keep a log of my nighttime emissions for personal reference, should I need it. Additionally, coitus is a new experience for me; I do so very much enjoy reflecting on my experiences to, perhaps, encourage more fruitful performances in the future. And by "fruitful," I do _not_ mean impregnating Penny with my superior seed. I'm glad we've made this clear.

When I start this sex journal, I will write a lengthy account of what happened to me last night. As this is not the journal, I will brief – which reminds me…I _lost _my briefs. I suspect that Penny has taken my underwear as a memento for stealing my virginity. This is all good and well, as I have already plotted my revenge. When I slip back to my apartment, I plan to smuggle out a pair of _her _panties. Why? First and foremost, I feel justified in doing so. In addition, her panties will serve as a visual aid for the first entry of my sex journal – I'll tape them in on the first page.

As glorious as my night with Penny was, it wasn't _all_ "fun and games," as they say. She was irritated with me by the end of it. _Apparently_, "fascinating" isn't an appropriate thing to ejaculate at climax. I will make a note of it, as the blunder almost prompted me to be kicked from her bed. Luckily, I was born with the charm of a lady's man, so I easily mollified her with the shine of my gentle smile and the touch of my exceptional male parts. Make of that what you will.

I check my watch; it's 6:00 A.M, and it's a Saturday. This means I need to return to my apartment and commence with my routine of cereal and _Doctor Who. _I sigh with the knowledge that if I get up now, I will disturb Penny. Although she is softly snoring – a behavior I need to weed out of her (and fast) – she looks perfectly peaceful in her slumber. One of her arms curls beneath her, while the other crosses my chest, the tips of her fingers resting at the base of my throat. The pressure of her fingers against my skin is surprisingly comforting.

I peek at my watch once more. 6:10. How long will this female sleep? Despite my state of immense relaxation, the need to watch _Doctor Who _becomes a pressing matter. I have until 6:15. I try to distract myself from springing out of bed.

(6:12). There are three carbons in a molecule of propane.

_What is the issue here, exactly? I have deviated from my schedule before. _

(6:13). Dark matter neither emits nor absorbs.

_Ah, yes, but have you done so willingly? Without the pressure of outside influences?_

(6:14). Fibonacci numbers: 0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34…

_I don't need outside influences to break a routine. I can do it myself. _

(6:15). Newton found that each particle uses a force – a force proportional to the product of each particle's mass and reversely proportional to the square of the severance of particles – to attract every other particle in the universe.

_Can you?_

There. It's 6:16. The time has come and passed. There is nothing more I can do, so I release a sigh of relief and relax into the creases of the pillows. My movement seems to stir Penny. Her eyes peel open, and she squints at me in the semidarkness.

"God," she says, closing her eyes again, "what time is it?"

"6:16," I say with pride. "And it's Saturday."

She frowns. "Sweetie, aren't you supposed to be eating breakfast and watching TV?"

_Oh, you magnificent creature, how I love you._ I smirk fondly at her. "Yes," I say.

"But you aren't," she says, stifling a yawn. She frowns once more and opens her eyes. "Why aren't you?"

"I decided not to do so." _To prove a point to myself_, I add silently.

She smiles and snuggles closer to me. "For me?" she asks.

I shake my head. "For _me_."

_For us. _

xxxxx

_Leonard _

"He's probably with Penny," Raj tells me.

I cradle the phone against my ear. "It's almost seven, and he's not home. Penny or no Penny, that's not like him." I gesture at the television even though I know Raj can't see me. "I'm watching _Doctor Who _without him. You don't know how bizarre that is."

"Call Penny," Raj urges. "Or go across the hall."

"I…can't." I struggle to find my words. "That…I just can't." If I find out Sheldon's _actually_ with Penny at her place, I might lose it.

"Then don't worry about it. I don't see why you care anyway."

Why do I care? I suppose that the sense of betrayal I feel at Sheldon dating Penny is outweighed by my own loyalty to that stupid, obnoxious, bigheaded twit I happen to share an apartment with. _Dammit, Sheldon. You'd better be face down in a ditch somewhere. _

"Alright, yeah. Thanks, Raj. Bye." I hang up the phone and get off the couch. I cross the living room and go out into the hallway. I don't know what I'll say to Penny when she comes to the door. _Hey, did you guys happen to sleep together last night?_

Worse, though, is the fact that Penny does not answer the door; Sheldon does.

"Leonard," he says, looking mildly surprised. His body is bound only by Penny's comforter; I recognize it.

"So, you're, uh, alive then," I say, shifting my weight from one foot to the other.

"Apparently so," Sheldon replies.

"That's…That's…"

"Fortunate?" Sheldon prompts hopefully.

"Yeah," I say. "Fortunate. I was just, you know, wondering…You didn't come home…"

Sheldon seems to be restraining himself from saying some snarky reply that's poisoning the tip of his tongue. He bows his head. "My apologies, Leonard," he finally says. "I didn't think you would be worried."

My laugh sounds like a strangled gargle in my throat. "Worried? I wasn't _worried_, I was just…"

A robed Penny appears in the doorway behind Sheldon.

"Yeah, okay," I add quickly. "I'm glad you're alive and everything. I'll, uh, see you later. In the apartment. 'Cause you live there. O-_kay_. Yeah." I leave before they can say anything or, more importantly, before I can say anything else to embarrass myself.

I try not to slam my door behind me. The phone rings, a welcomed distraction. It's Raj again.

"Not that I care, but did you find him?"

"He was at Penny's," I say, trying to keep the bitterness from my voice.

"Oh." There's a pause on the other end. "I possibly have some information that may or may not cheer you up."

"May or may not?" I question.

"Priya just arrived in town. I'm about to go pick her up from the airport." There's some hesitation in Raj's voice. "The only reason why I'm telling you this is because you're probably feeling like crap."

"I am," I agree.

"So, dude, do you want to come with me to the airport?" His "dude" is halfhearted.

I consider this. "Yes," I say.

xxxxx

_Penny_

"I don't have work until this evening," I say, "so we can goof off all day."

Sheldon's still looking for his underwear, and he only seems to be half listening to me. "Mmm," he says, overturning one of my pillows.

"We can play games and talk, and I can make you lunch…"

He leans down to look beneath the bed, still ignoring me.

"Or," I continue, "I can make you dress in drag so that I can pimp you out on the street…"

He looks up sharply.

Ahh, so he _is_ listening. I grin at him and say, "They're hanging off the lamp in the living room, Sheldon."

Sheldon stops looking for his underwear. He gives me an irritated look. "You could have mentioned that sooner, Penny." He emerges into the living room and snatches his underwear from the top of the lamp. He turns them inside out before slipping them on. "Now, where are those infernal skinny jeans?"

"Sheldon," I say, and he stops his search to look at me.

"What?"

"What do you want to do today? It can be anything."

He frowns, thinking. "I haven't been to the train museum in a while."

I wince. "Okay."

"Really?" He seems surprised. "You would go to the train museum with me? But, Penny, you don't like the train museum."

"You do."

Sheldon looks touched, if that is possible. Which is weird because he never finds _anything _sentimental. "That's very thoughtful, Penny." He cocks his head at me. "Before we go, however, I have some questions." He pauses before clarifying, "Questions concerning last night."

Oh, God. Here it comes. "Shoot," I say.

"How was my coital execution?" he asks. "And try to be entirely honest; this is for science."

I shrug. "I'd recommend you to a friend."

"Positive feedback," he says, looking pleased. "Excellent." Then, his expression becomes unrecognizable. _Questions_, he'd said. He's only asked one question so far.

"Anything else?" I ask.

He opens his mouth to speak, but then closes it. He shakes his head. "That's all." He smiles at me and twitches a little; he has always been the worst liar. This makes me wonder, though. What else did he have to say?

xxxxx

**A/N: First of all, I apologize for the confusion caused by the previous chapter. No, I am not finished with this story. Okay. Glad we've gotten through that. Also, a happy belated birthday to Jim Parsons (or, happy birthday to him, depending on what time zone you're in). Anyway, please review. I know my updates have been slower than usual, but I'm sure y'all'll get over it. **


	33. The Conductor and Engineer Juxtaposition

_Sheldon_

It was my every intention, after waking up this morning, to tell Penny that I love her. But first, I wanted to be confident of her affections; I wanted to ask her if her feelings were the same as they were when she first told me that _she_ loved _me_. To sum up, I wished to be certain that my own confession wouldn't make me look like a colossal idiot.

Unfortunately, I was unable to do any of those things. Or, to be frank, I chickened out.

Penny's voice pulls me from by anxious reverie. "So, um, tell me about this doohickey here," she says with a perfect wrinkle forming between her scrunched eyebrows.

I always find it so incredibly charming when she tries her hardest to be fascinated in matters that only seem to interest me. Of course, she _should _be interested in these things – everyone should. However, I am not ignorant of the paradigm; often enough, I find myself bored with Penny's concerns, such as who's dating whom at The Cheesecake Factory or what new shoes are being released from Kim Kardashian's clothing line, et cetera. Because of Penny's false interest in trains, and the adorable expression she wears on her face in the attempt to sell me that aforementioned false interest, I find myself struggling to resist the urge to exchange saliva with her.

Instead, I clasp my hands behind my back and do my best to reply without letting on that I am fully aware of her con. "_That_, Penny," I say, "is a locomotive. Or, rather, what used to be one. It's number thirty-two of the Los Angeles Harbor Department, and it was built in 1914 mainly for the purpose of hauling construction materials. That particular locomotive weighs nineteen tons."

"You didn't even look at the plaque," Penny says, though her tone of voice sounds more accusatory than impressed.

"I've been here to the Travel Town Museum more times than I can count," I say. Then, I hastily add, "Though, contrary to my hyperbole, I actually _can _count that high."

"Thanks for letting me know," says Penny. "I was starting to worry."

xxxxx

_Leonard _

"I hear Sheldon's dating Penny," says Priya.

"Uh, yeah," I say.

"That's…interesting."

I try to nonchalantly change the subject. "Yeah. So, uh, how long are you back here for?"

"A while," Priya replies, whisking her long, dark hair to one side. "Things did not go as planned in India. I was supposed to receive my promotion with the company as lead attorney, but the job was given to Gupta."

I don't ask who this Gupta guy is because, apparently, Priya has strong negative feelings against him.

"Anyway," she continues, "in retaliation, I am here to seek out rival car companies for a position. If I am successful, perhaps my previous _superiors_ –," and she says this word venomously, " – will rue the day they put Gupta in charge, and they will beg me to take his place."

"Or," I suggest, "perhaps you'll like it here better."

Priya smiles. "Perhaps."

I smile back, feeling encouraged.

"I am still here, in case you guys forgot," says Raj unhappily. His chair is positioned between Priya's and mine at the café we happened across in our voyage from the airport to Raj's apartment. He scowls at us. "Stop smiling."

xxxxx

_Penny_

"Let's not dillydally, Penny," says Sheldon from up ahead. We've been walking around outside in circles, looking at each locomotive twice – we haven't even gotten to the rest of the museum. He waits for me to catch up before adding, "In this next courtyard, we'll find my favorite caboose."

I snort. "Wanna know which caboose is _my _favorite?" I violently grab his right butt cheek, and he jumps in surprise.

He stares at me, devoid of all amusement. "Behave," he commands simply.

Psh, whatever. I'm funny, dang it.

"Behold," says Sheldon with a wave of his hand. Directly ahead of us is a long, whitish-blue wooden caboose with an orange stripe running down the length of its side. Immediately, I understand why it is Sheldon's favorite: people are allowed to go inside of it. Sheldon smoothly cuts in front of a little girl so he can board the caboose.

He stands at the back opening, leaning against the rails, with his pocket watch in his hand. He squints off into the distance and tries to look important.

I laugh. "Any room for me up there, Sheldon?"

He gives me an irritated look. "I'm Conductor Cooper, right now."

"Oh. Yeah. Sorry, _Conductor Cooper._" I climb up next to him.

"You can be the engineer, if you'd like," says Sheldon, "though your portrayal won't be all that accurate, as I suspect you have little to no knowledge about the mechanisms of a train."

"Sure I do," I say. I point at the train car. "That's the caboose." I point down over the side. "Those are wheels." There is a weird little turning thing set into the wall beside the caboose doorway. "That's a…steering…thing."

"Steering th – Penny!" Sheldon looks appalled. "That's a manual _brake_. In case of an emergency, it would help slow down the train."

"Close enough."

"Get off my caboose."

I ignore him and go inside where there are two bunks set up where the engineer and the conductor would sleep. There's also a coal stove which served as the caboose's heating system. "This is cozy," I say to Sheldon, who has followed me despite his disappointment in my lack of knowledge about trains. "I think we could live here together. You know, conductor and engineer. Let's pretend we run out of coal for the stove, and it gets so cold one night that I have to leave my bunk for yours to stay warm."

"What are you talking about?" he demands. "You're no longer the engineer anymore, and I'm _not _going to sleep with a strange man."

So much for role play.

"Can we go look at something else?" I ask, feeling moody. "We still haven't gone on the train ride."

Sheldon winds up his pocket watch without looking at me. "Sometimes, Penny, you can be such a child." He snaps the lid of the watch down and returns the whole thing to his pocket.

Right. _I'm _the child. As if the train ride isn't his favorite part.

"Alright," he finally says. "Let's go."

"Why so reluctant?" I ask as we cross the museum grounds to the "train station" where a scaled-down train waits to be boarded. The train is open to the air, and only children and their parents stand before it in line.

He shrugs and doesn't reply.

"You alright?" I ask, frowning. That's when I notice that he's sweating. Granted, L.A. is hot, but the museum courtyard is pretty shaded.

"I'm fine, Penny," he says as we slide into a narrow booth on the miniature train. There's not much room for the both of us, but we manage to make it work. The train starts off on the track that seems to circle the entire museum. Just as I begin to truly enjoy the sunshine, Sheldon turns to me and opens his mouth.

"What?" I ask, and he closes it again.

He looks away. "Nothing."

"C'mon, tell me. What's wrong?"

He looks back at me quickly. "Nothing's _wrong_, Penny." He glances down at his lap and laces his fingers together. "I wanted to thank you for accompanying me here today, and – "

I ruffle his hair. "Aw, sweetie, you're welcome."

"Also," he begins, "I – "

"You know that I'm happy to go anywhere with you."

He falls silent.

"Sorry," I say. "Didn't mean to interrupt, please cont– "

"I love you," he splutters.

We stare at each other. He's the first to blink and look away.

"Or, you know, whatever," he says as if he's imitating the way I talk.

I'm grinning; I can't help it. "Did you plan all of this?" I ask, and he shoots me a questioning look. "Stopping to look at everything twice. Taking your time on the caboose. I know the train ride is, legit, your favorite part."

He shakes his head. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Were you _planning _to tell me you love me? Here, on this train."

"Yes," he says, still looking confused.

So, that was why he was sweating. He wasn't just hot; he was nervous.

"Well, I love you, too." I place a hand on his cheek and drawn him closer to kiss him. His lips part with obvious relief, and he kisses me back.

The children behind us squeal in disgust with a chorus of _"Ewwww."_ Sheldon breaks away from me to throw the children an aggressive look. Instead of quieting them, however, Sheldon causes the children to dissolve into a fit of giggles.

When we get off the train, I take Sheldon's hand in mine. Suddenly, going to a stupid train museum doesn't seem like a huge bust after all.

"You never answered my question," I say, squeezing his hand as we step out onto the hot asphalt.

"Hmm?"

"About why you were so reluctant about getting to the train ride. Why couldn't we have taken the ride when we first got here?" I frown. "Did you dread telling me you love me _that _much?"

He looks surprised. "Penny," he says, still looking at me, "everyone knows you're supposed to save the best for last."

xxxxx

**A/N: This isn't the end yet, either. I think I have two more chapters left. Anyway, hope you enjoyed! **


	34. The Agreement Modification

_Penny_

Howard's pissed at Sheldon. And by pissed, I mean _pissed_. They've been fighting all afternoon. The thing about it that pisses _me _off is the fact that neither of them will tell me why. Raj won't even tell me – not that he can, but I'm sure he wouldn't tell me even if he _was _comfortable talking to women. Leonard, too, seems to know what it's all about, and he doesn't look too happy. Not angry, exactly…Maybe a little sick. It's hard to tell whose side he's on.

"C'mon, tell me," I beg, and Leonard roughly shakes his head. We're sitting on a bench at the park – Raj is flying his kite. Howard and Sheldon, however, have abandoned their kites to yell obscenities at one another. They're too far down the hill for me to be able to make out their words. I watch them jab their fingers in each other's faces, and I frown. "Why not?" I ask Leonard.

He seems to choose his words very carefully. "It's their fight." He stands up. "Besides, it's a long story, and I have to go meet Priya."

"Oh, right," I say, watching him go. Leonard and Priya have been dating for nearly six months now, and it looks like Priya plans to stay here for a while. It's weird – I worried that Leonard and Sheldon would never be friends again. Then, Priya – the woman I once _hated_ – comes in and makes everything right. Leonard having a steady girlfriend means that he can't, in good conscience, stay mad at Sheldon. And, more importantly, Leonard can't stay mad at me.

I turn my attention back to Howard and Sheldon and wonder if I should intervene. Sheldon, despite his large size, has been forced face-down on the grass by Howard, who now sits on Sheldon's head. Raj, who's also watching the scene, covers his mouth to hide his silent laughter.

Sighing, I get up off the bench and walk down the sloping hill to see what's what.

"You're always _deliberately _sabotaging me," Howard accuses him, rubbing his butt into Sheldon's scalp.

Sheldon flops his arms like a beached whale, his cries muffled by dirt and grass.

"Howard," I say calmly, "I don't think he can breathe." It's odd that Sheldon, who beat Leonard in a fight, is being bested by Howard, the guy who always needs help carrying his groceries.

"Good," says Howard. "I hope he dies."

Sheldon lets out a strangled moan.

"C'mon," I say. "Let him up."

"He has to promise me something first," replies Howard, now straddling the back of Sheldon's neck.

"Well, at least allow him to say something," I compromise. "He can't talk in the grass."

Howard gets up, leans over, and grabs a hold of Sheldon's shoulders. Then, Howard rolls Sheldon over so that Sheldon is facing the sky. Poor Sheldon – he looks traumatized; there are dirt smudges across his delicate cheekbones. When Sheldon tries to get up, Howard puts a well-placed knee against Sheldon's gut, pinning him down again.

"Let's hear it, homes," says Howard.

I roll my eyes.

Sheldon remains silent.

"You want me to sit on your face next?" Howard demands. "Because I'll do it."

"What's the big deal?" I ask Sheldon, crouching next to him. "What are you guys fighting about? For real. This is getting annoying."

"Tell her, Sheldon," says Howard. "Go on. Explain to her why you're being such a colossal dick."

"I will not," says Sheldon sternly, "nor will I promise you anything, Wolowitz." Sheldon's gaze slides from Howard to me, and his eyes seem to soften, though only slightly. "My apologies, Penny. This is a private matter."

"Fine," I snap. "Then I'm not helping you." I stalk off as Howard proceeds to sit on Sheldon's face.

xxxxx

_Sheldon _

Wolowitz is angry with me, Penny is angry with me, and Leonard is just getting over being angry with me, though I'm almost entirely certain he isn't happy with me. Koothrappali remains the only indifferent party. What amuses me – though, I suppose amusement is a bit of a stretch for what I'm currently feeling – is the fact that I have done nothing wrong. I do not say this to give the impression of one who is in denial; I am emphatic about this. _I have done nothing wrong. _

Despite my lack of delinquency, today's entry will be absent from my sex journal, courtesy of Penny.

Perhaps she will forgive me. If she doesn't, my plan will fail. Sweet Green Lantern, don't let my plan fail.

xxxxx

_Penny_

After the park, we go back home. I sit around in Sheldon and Leonard's apartment, waiting for Sheldon to get out of the shower to apologize to me and tell me why he was arguing with Howard. Once it becomes clear that Sheldon won't tell me anything – since he immediately sits down at his laptop after emerging from his bedroom in clean clothes – I decide to spend the rest of the day ignoring him, and I return to my apartment.

Finally, around dinnertime, I get bored of keeping up with the cold shoulder, and I cross the hall to check in on Sheldon. "What are you working on?" I ask.

"Modifications," he replies without looking up from his computer screen.

"Of what?"

He sighs and turns in his seat to face me. "Penny, unless you have something important you wish to discuss with me, I am incredibly busy. You know how my work requires my rapt attention."

"So, it's a paper on one of those theory things?"

He tilts his head at me in disdain.

"What?" I question, annoyed. "You always seem disappointed that I don't take any interest in any of the shit that you do. I'm trying to be nice! I hate fighting with you."

"Taking an interest in my work doesn't translate into referring to the subjects of my articles as 'those theory things.' Really, Penny. Doing so is akin to me addressing your ridiculous footwear as 'those shoe things.'" He points down at my flip-flops.

"These are _Louis Vuittons_," I reply, outraged. I deserve to be outraged about this – they were expensive, and I almost bounced a check to buy them.

"I don't know the significance of that," says Sheldon, "but I think I've made my point." He turns back to his computer.

"Fine," I say. "You can sleep in your own bed tonight."

His fingers pause on the keyboard. "If psychics were real, I would be one."

I leave the apartment, slamming the door behind me. I'm not actually that mad; I just want him to think I am. And wanting him to think I'm mad, and him not responding to it, makes me actually mad. Really mad. So, I plop myself down on my couch and stew in my madness.

I'm just about to doze off when, somewhere around midnight, I hear a soft tapping on my door.

_Knock, knock, knock._

"Penny."

_Knock, knock, knock._

"Penny."

_Knock, knock, knock._

"Penny."

I sigh and roll off the couch to open the door. To my surprise, however, he doesn't come in. He remains out in the hallway, and bows his head, clasping his hands behind his back. I give him a questioning look.

"Actually," Sheldon says, "I was hoping you would accompany me to my living room. Leonard is off gallivanting with that Indian female, so we have the place to ourselves – "

I hold up a hand. "Whoa, big boy. I'm gonna stop you right there. I'm not sleeping with you." I cross my arms. "I'm still mad at you, remember?"

"My mission isn't coital in nature," he replies smoothly. "Please, just follow me."

Confused and a little intrigued, I do as he says. I look around his living room – nothing seems out of place. "Are you going to apologize to me now?"

"Not yet," he says. "Though, I'm hoping that I won't need to."

I open my mouth to argue, but he holds up a single finger. I shut my mouth.

"Take a seat," he says, gesturing to the couch.

I sit down on the middle cushion.

He hesitates. "No," he says. "Not there." He points to his cushion. The territory of his couch kingdom. His personal butt pillow.

"Sheldon," I say, suppressing a legitimate gasp, "that's your _spot_."

His mouth twitches. "I've trained you well." He continues to gesture at his side of the couch. "Nevertheless, I insist."

I sit in his spot. _Something is wrong._

He kneels down on the floor.

_Very wrong._

From the coffee table, he swipes up a manila folder.

_So very wrong._

With his other hand, he fishes into the depths of his right pants' pocket.

_So very _very_ wrong._

"It hasn't escaped my attention," Sheldon begins, his voice faltering slightly, "that we are in love."

_This wasn't in the agreement._

"What are you doing?" I question. "Why are you on one knee? What's in that folder? What are you taking out of your pocket?"

He pauses and gives me a half-amused, half-annoyed look. "If you cease making so many inquiries, perhaps I'll be able to tell you." He takes a deep breath. "Like I said, I have come to realize that we are in lo–"

"Oh?" I ask, my voice on the verge of hysterics. "You've just realized that, huh? Just now?"

"Penny," he says politely. "Shut up."

I fall silent. Finally, I can see what he's holding in his hand. It's a ring. No, not a diamond ring, nor any kind of ring a _normal_ girl would ever want. It looks like a man's seal ring – it's dark with a flat green circle on top. Inside the circle, however, is an insignia I recognize well.

Sheldon's proposing to me with a goddamn Green Lantern power ring.

"I was given to believe that females like grandiose love declarations during proposals," says Sheldon, frowning slightly. "I've researched the topic thoroughly on the internet. I don't know how many film clips I've reviewed on the YouTube – actually, that's a lie because I know exactly how many – but all of them seem to suggest that the woman is more likely to say yes if the man is romantic in his – "

"Is this _your_ romantic speech?" I ask, impatient. "Because I gotta tell ya, it's not really doing the trick."

Sheldon looks flustered. "You're not letting me finish!"

"You're taking too long!"

He thrusts the ring in my face. "Fine," he says. "Will you take it, or won't you?"

"That's not a proposal."

He rolls his eyes. "Will you marry me?" He sounds bored and annoyed.

"Once more, with feeling!"

_"Will you marry me?"_ he snaps, looking at me fiercely. He doesn't wait for me to answer, however, and he slips the ring over my finger. As I thought, it's much too big; I put it on my thumb instead.

"I guess I will," I say, staring at the ring. Although I know it's completely ridiculous for a guy to propose to someone with a nerdy comic book ring thingy, I know it means a lot more coming from Sheldon; I bet he peeled open its mint condition packaging to give it to me. He's a total weirdy weirdo, but he always has the best intentions.

"Excellent," says Sheldon, though he looks unsurprised – he must have been confident, then, that I would say yes.

"This is crazy," I say. "How long have we been dating? And hey, I thought you didn't believe in the constitution of marriage. Something about ownership and the license to screw..."

"It's not that I didn't believe in it," he says indifferently, "it's just that I didn't agree with its principles."

"You're cutting hairs," I complain.

"Splitting," he corrects.

I glare at him.

"Anyway," he continues, "I didn't agree with its principles at first, but then I pondered it deeply, and it all makes sense. We've had the concept drilled into our craniums since we were young children in kindergarten: if something belongs to you, you put your name on it. Hence, Penny Cooper."

"That's misogynistic," I say, "and insulting."

"You'll get over it," he says lightly, getting to his feet.

I grin despite myself. "Well, what was that whole thing with Howard?"

"Oh, _that_," says Sheldon darkly. "I told everyone of my intentions to marry you, and he was a bit disgruntled about it. Apparently, as he has not yet married Bernadette, Wolowitz seems to think that my proposal to you is 'thunder-stealing.' He wanted me to promise him to wait at least a year to marry you after his own wedding."

"You guys are a bunch of girls." I now realize why Leonard was uncomfortable about telling me.

Sheldon hesitates. "And I suppose now is a good time as any to admit to you something."

"Yeah?"

"I lied to you."

xxxxx

_Sheldon_

I bow my head.

"About what?" she asks.

"When I was using my laptop, I wasn't writing an article. I didn't lie, technically, because I never explicitly said _that_ was what I was doing. However, I led you to believe that falsehood."

"Okay…"

I hand her the manila folder. "I was truthful about one thing; I _was _making modifications."

Penny opens the folder. "The Girlfriend Agreement?" she asks, squinting at it.

"_Relationship," _I correct. "And look closely. I've altered it."

"_The Marriage Agreement."_ She looks up at me. "So, you changed the title on the assumption that I would say yes."

I sit beside her, on the _middle cushion_ – oh, Lord, it kills me – and I kiss her. "Oh, Penny," I say, "it wasn't an assumption."

xxxxx

**A/N: Sorry it has taken me so long to upload this chapter. This isn't quite the end; I still have an epilogue. Anyway, hope you've enjoyed reading my story, even though it's drawing to a close. **


	35. Epilogue

Sheldon stands with his hands clasped behind his back and his face angled down towards the tracks that run beneath his feet. It has taken him a lot of effort to get here – not just mentally, but physically. Before he and Penny could even set the date, they argued constantly over the venue. Penny wanted to be married back home in Omaha, where they _technically _shared their first kiss, and Sheldon wanted to be married at the train museum where he first told Penny he loved her. Also, he just liked trains. But like any relationship – well, any _successful _relationship – both partners were forced to compromise. The result? The wedding ceremony was to take place at a train station in Omaha. Neither were satisfied, so both were happy.

"I always thought it would be me," says Leonard, standing beside Sheldon.

Sheldon looks at him. "I suppose we all did, for a while."

"Really?"

Sheldon releases a genuine laugh. "Well, _I _didn't – I always knew Penny was out of your league." He pauses, as if contemplating his own words. "I hope you don't find that offensive."

"How can I not find that offensive?" Leonard demands. "So, what you're saying is that Penny's way out of _my _league, but not yours?"

"To the contrary," says Sheldon, "I'm way out of Penny's league. I'm doing her a favor."

Leonard stares at him.

"Bazinga," Sheldon adds, though only halfheartedly. He might have thought himself superior to Penny at one time, but now he is resigned into considering Penny as his equal. Perhaps not in terms of intelligence, but in terms of _being._ Granted, Sheldon has never found anyone else to meet these expectations, and he doesn't want to. Penny is both enough and more than enough.

"There she is," Leonard says suddenly, startling Sheldon.

Penny walks down between the two train rails, clutching a bouquet of sunflowers (artfully prearranged by Raj). She smiles, feeling the nervous flutter in her chest as she clutches her father's arm. Up ahead of her stands Sheldon, patiently waiting, accompanied by Leonard, his Best Man, and his groomsmen: Raj, Howard, and, oddly enough, Stuart. On the other side of Sheldon stands Penny's bridesmaids: Amy (the Maid of Honor), Howard's lovely wife Bernadette, Priya, and Christy (the whore of Omaha). Everything is perfect, with nothing out of place, aside from –

"What the hell are you wearing?" Penny hisses to Sheldon, still retaining her smile for the photographer. Sheldon wears his moth brown suit that he usually dons for lectures at the university. "What happened to your black tuxedo?"

"Every time I wear a black suit, something unfortunate occurs," whispers Sheldon. "Although I am not a superstitious man, previously collected data suggests the increased likelihood of something ill-fated happening if I am wearing that suit as opposed to wearing something I am more comfortable in, such as this particular ensemble." He looks at her. "Additionally, _I _didn't get to pick out _your _dress. If I had, I would have selected something that doesn't accentuate your man shoulders. Strapless appears to be working poorly for you."

"I don't have man shoulders!" Penny argues in a raised voice.

"Guys," says Leonard, smiling uncertainly. "Maybe we can wrap this up?" He nods at the crowd situated on either side of the tracks. "Your meemaw looks restless. We shouldn't keep her standing for too long."

"Don't you worry about Meemaw," says Sheldon. "She's quite sturdy."

"Ugh," says Beverly Hofstadter, who stands, wearing all black, between Sheldon and Penny. "As I recall, I agreed to join the two of you in matrimony on the condition that the ceremony was brief and there would be copious amounts of liquor at the reception afterwards." Sheldon and Penny thought it would be appropriate for Beverly to serve as Justice of the Peace due to the fact that it was her illness that originally brought the young couple together. Although free of cancer, Beverly is not free of her unpleasant attitude. "My patience is wearing thin, and I'm becoming increasingly concerned that we'll be struck by a train. So, the vows?"

"This is so romantic," says Penny sarcastically, though she finds herself to be grinning regardless. She twists the Green Lantern ring around her thumb in anticipation. Fortunately, for their actual wedding bands, Sheldon and Penny have picked out something much more durable. Leonard steps forward to relinquish the rings.

"Penny?" Beverly prompts.

"Sheldon," Penny begins, taking his hands in hers. "You are the most whackadoodle, bat-crap-crazy person I know, and if someone were to tell me a couple years ago that I would end up on some train tracks with a power ring on my thumb and you at my side, I would have told 'em they were out of their damn mind. It's true – at first, I didn't even like you. For the longest time, in fact, I found it hard to stand you. Yet here we are, and I can't imagine spending the rest of my life with anyone else." Penny slips the gold ring on Sheldon's finger. "So, with this ring, I thee wed, and I promise to forever maintain my newfound ability to stand you."

"Sheldon?" Beverly looks at him.

"Penny," says Sheldon, tilting his head at her, "your lack of understanding towards anything I find important has often irritated me to no end, such as your mispronunciation of common words, or your complete disregard of factual evidence regarding evolution, _or_ your belief in psychic hokum." He takes a deep breath. "Even considering all of this, I find myself needing to make an adjustment in what it is that I find important – something that now encompasses loving you." He slips the ring onto Penny's finger. "With this ring, I thee wed, and I promise to forever maintain my newfound ability to love you."

"By the power vested in me by the state of Nebraska," says Beverly, sounding bored, "I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now –"

"Kiss the bride," Sheldon interrupts, pulling Penny into his arms to do so.

_The End_

xxxxx

**A/N: **_**For never was a story so super than this of Penny and her Sheldon Cooper.**_

**I want to thank ALL of you for sticking it out to the end. Your reviews have been great, and they've kept me going. I hope everyone has enjoyed this story because I've definitely enjoyed writing it. Love you guys!**


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